


New Wind

by ihmesusi



Series: Tokyo Band Life [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Despite all the negative innotations, Drug-Induced Sex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Rape, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Identity, The year is 2004, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, a relatively light-hearted RPG novel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihmesusi/pseuds/ihmesusi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I began rewriting an old, embarrassing rp I've played with a friend since I was fifteen. The issues we had and the melodramatism that colored our writing have since then turned into a more realistic base of a story that runs through several generations of young people, who suffer from several different types of issues. The original story no longer fits the future now, as we have ended up changing the details of the past many times. There are some things that stay the same, especially the facts that Asuko grows weed in his dorm and Yeriko is a selfish spoiled rich kid who tries to be a good person and fails. </p><p>Also, the world hasn't been kind to any of these kids.</p><p>This is a story about the different solutions they come to as individuals, while having hope for all their futures. I'm employing all the clichés here, be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter

**Author's Note:**

> I credit my wonderful partner in crime, with whom I invented Tokyo Band Life from the start and who reluctantly gave me a permission for this rewritten version where her beloved characters are also completely in my hands: Nilla(Soriathus) ♥ We have made a deal that what I write here happens in another dimension and doesn't affect the reality of our game if she doesn't like what I do with her babies.
> 
> If you are a Finnish speaking person and interested in reading the original(horribly written) version of the early chapters, go here: http://tokyo-band-life.livejournal.com/
> 
> Also, I'm sorry about any typos. I'm slightly dyslexic and do not speak English as my first language.

It was five minutes past five in the afternoon, a relatively warm day in the end of February. The rush hour had begun five minutes ago and the streets of Roppongi were like a clockwork. A 15-year-old delinquent moved along the stream of people mostly unnoticed, with a grocery bag in his hand. People's ignorance to their surroundings was a good thing, for many reasons.

Ishida Yamato, the first born son of a very busy man, made his way calmly towards his home residence at Roppongi Hills. In the grocery bag, he had the ingredients for his father’s favorite nabe. It was turning out to be the first good day in forever. It was funny, how all he needed for that was the man’s steady presence. His forced solitude had been on a break for two days now and he was - sort of - starting to trust that.

The moment he let out a content little sigh, karma decided to kick his ass. His phone woke up, vibrating against his thigh and playing the much too mechanical version of Bon Jovi’s Santa Fe. There had been a time, when he’d cared about things like picking a different ringtone to everyone he would want to answer a call from. Now he wished he hadn’t and that he could’ve enjoyed the stupid day a little longer than six hours. Quarter a day, he counted and sighed. He had no choice but to pick up. After everything, his father wasn’t above sending the police or at least the Mori staff after him if he didn’t. He tried for another smile anyway.

\- What’s up, shabu-shabu?  
\- Hello, Yamato! I reached you on the first try, good good!  
\- You don’t have to shout, dad.

There were a lot of people talking in the background and it seemed like the man was outdoors. He was panting as he spoke and Yamato’s lips moved on their own, mimicking the words he heard him say. It wasn’t difficult, his father chose the same words every single time:

\- That was unintentional, sorry. Oh that’s right, don’t wait up for me tonight. I know I promised to be home but something came up and it’s really hectic around the station right now.  
\- What about the shabu-shabu?

 _Ah._ He shouldn’t have brought it up. The last thing he wanted, was to guilt-trip the man. He wasn’t about to turn that petty. His feet weren't moving forward anymore, literally or metaphorically. He was worrying his lower lip, he noticed, when the metallic taste of blood touched his tongue. The disappointment he felt, was even more tangible than the good mood he’d experienced earlier.

\- I’m sorry, Yamato, I know you were looking forward to it. Let’s have the shabu-shabu next time. I need to hang up, otherwise you’ll be fetching _me_ from the hospital next.  
\- That’s-  
\- I know! Why don’t you go out to eat with your friends? You can use my credit card. Take it as an apology.

The line cut without further goodbyes and Yamato found himself standing in the middle of the side-walk, hands clenched into fists, trembling in the sudden emotional storm. It was as if a strong cold wind was trying to knock him over, and he contented himself thinking that had he been anyone else he would’ve caved in. Even if it was highly egotistical and vain thinking. His eyes fell on the grocery bag and it took him two deep breaths to feel steady enough to light a cigarette. Didn't matter, if the police stopped and fined him for it. He needed nicotine like oxygen right now.

Step at a time, his feet begun moving. The situation was nothing new. There was no need to cook, because no one would be eating. Why had he expected today to be somehow different? It was stupid to get emotional like a spoiled brat. It wasn’t as if he was being neglected. He lived in an extremely high quality apartment, with services from spa to healthcare only sixteen floors down. There was no need for his father to be worried about him or skip work for him. He wasn’t as insecure as to think the man wouldn’t come flying, if he ever was in serious trouble. 

He just couldn’t count on his father to come home just to spend time with him - just to make him feel like he was worth that much. 

The burning end of the cigarette crept closer to his fingers, dropping ash on the ground as he walked but after the first few drags he let it be. He wanted to grasp onto the angry feeling inside him and do something irresponsible. Something to make him feel like he deserved this.

To Yamato’s credit, he went home first and put the meat in the fridge along with everything else he’d bought. Only then he took off with a vague feeling he was forgetting something. He’d met Matsuko earlier in front of an arcade. If he was lucky, the sporty bassist would still be wasting his time trying to get the highest score in Virtual Fighter 4.

 

*

 

It sucked that as a minor, he couldn’t officially change his name to his mother’s family name without permission from his parents. It wasn’t as if his father would’ve fought over this so much, as he’d probably been disowned already, he just didn’t want to let the man know where he was. 

It just meant not traveling around! As if he had the money anyway. Having secured a room in Ebisu, after living in Roppongi for half-a-year, he was shocked to find how damn expensive just the required insurances were. If he’d just swallowed his pride and stayed with the Higuchis for a year or so more… He hadn’t though, and the room he lived in now, was way too small for its price. 75 000 yen a month! That was 630 or so dollars! Never mind the insurances. Shit, what was he supposed to do about the insurances?

He still had his job at Aorosa with the elderly couple. A 14-year-old couldn’t score a better job in Tokyo, unless they had connections which he didn’t have, or they lied about their age. If push came to shove, he could just sit in some corner and play his Ganesa. That was a little too close to begging though. Damn Roppongi apartments for being so expensive!

Still, if only there was a way to make money with his music… He stopped mid-step and listened. There weren’t many people around, and even if the ring-tone was loud and clear as a day no one was picking up. The green eyes speed-checked everyone in the vicinity. Then - a homeless person? A drunk? Would a homeless person have a cell-phone? He started towards the sound and searched for the phone. With luck, it would belong to someone important and he’d get compensation when returning it.

There it was. Whoa! It was one of those new folded ones! Like a clam. Shell-phone right? It went quiet and then started again. _It must be the owner right?_ He picked it up and opened it. Japanese cellphones sure were different. The one he’d had in New York, was a Nokia one. On the screen read simply: _Senpai._

He figured out the right button and lifted the phone to his ear nervously.

\- Hello? Kira speaking. The person you’re trying to call can’t come to the phone right now but you can leave a message-

He bit his lower lip. What was he saying? There was the chance the person calling was the owner of the phone, and he made it seem like he’d stolen the phone. Shit.

\- Um, that is…  
\- Excuse me but who? No, nevermind that, can you please give the phone to Yamato? It’s urgent.

The voice on the line didn’t seem too angry. In fact, it was pretty laid-back. Low and pleasant to the ear. Did that mean the faceless owner of the phone - this Yamato-guy - made a habit of losing his phone? Or maybe just letting other people answer it for him. That seemed more plausible, unless the guy was a clutch. Then again, Yamato could also mean a girl, right?

He’d been quiet for too long.

\- Ah, I’m sorry! That is, I picked it up. Yamato’s phone. This phone. I picked it up on the street. It was ringing so…  
\- On the street? 

There was a longer variety of swearwords and insults on the other end of the line, than he’d thought existed. Then again, young people were creative and so it was actually pretty understandable. His mother often said young people changed the language all the time - were it Japanese or English. 

\- Sorry, are you still there? the voice asked and he nodded.

Then he wanted to kick himself - gently. It wasn’t as if the guy could see him!

\- Yes.  
\- Okay, so what was your name again?  
\- Kira. Kira Satoru.

It was weird, how a name that in the beginning had felt sort of strange, ill-fitting even, was starting to sound better. He’d given it to the first people whom he’d met and it had been an adventure type of thing. Like in spy-movies or something. Now though. Yeah, the more he used it the more it was his. His name.

\- My name is Nakano Yeriko. I’m terribly sorry to ask, but could you please make sure the phone doesn’t run out of battery until I find that idiot? I’ll have him call you immediately, okay?  
\- Okay.

His feet had brought him to his destination without him knowing he’d moved. It was spooky. Satoru checked his phone and was glad he had walked straight here. He had ten minutes to change into work gear.

\- I’m going to have to hang up now, Nakano-san, he said to the phone absent-mindedly. - I’m clocking myself in.  
\- Right. Thanks again for picking up, Kira.  
\- No problem.

Satoru folded the phone and pushed it into his pocket as he stepped into the café. 

 

*

 

Ishida Yamato was a hazardous little shit. The universal rule of _as long as no one gets hurt_ didn't apply to him. He would always rebuke it with a judgemental _Take responsibility for your actions._ He walked through life as if nothing touched him. Like his psyche was a ball of mercury, that had escaped from a broken thermometer. Liquid enough to pass through anything, solid enough to be called metal. Just like mercury was no good for anyone, people tended to get hurt around Yamato. 

They also tended to come back for more.

 _It’s because men are selfish_ , he said once, giving Yeriko a clouded look and letting him know he wasn't joking. 

He knew as much. He was one of the most selfish people around. Like everyone else, he had once believed that he was the one person who could move Yamato. Even if everything said otherwise. Even now, that he knew better, he couldn't stop hoping. He was having the worst case of mercury poisoning and it made him so sick, he found himself hating the very guy he probably loved more than his parents.

To think he would be fascinated with a younger guy to this point. He was mostly gay, he knew, and he was well aware of himself to know why that was. What more, he was only attracted to other people sexually. When it came to relationships, his emotions were rarely ready to come out and play. Yet here he was, psyching himself to call anyplace the blonde could be in, in case he couldn’t find him via their mutual contacts. Yamato he couldn’t reach was Yamato in trouble, three times out of four. If he he looked deep within, he could even discern some of what made Yamato so special to him. It was just new and so damn odd, he didn’t know how to deal with it. 

The line rattled, as his best friend finally picked up after three times calling him. The guy’s voice was calm against the annoyance Yeriko felt.

\- Took you long enough.  
\- Yes, because I obviously live to answer the phone when you call.

Yeriko had known Haruno Sei ever since elementary school. They had the same piano teacher for the whole six years, and somehow they had managed to bond, despite having very different personalities and too much money to use as kids that young. Perhaps, because they both hit the low of their lives around the same time, they naturally recognized and gravitated towards each other. Misery did love company.

He would say: _I hate old women_ and Sei would shudder and go: _All women are evil._ It was pretty ironic, considering the guy’s choice of wardrobe now.

\- Where are you? No, don’t answer that unless you’re with Yamato.

He could hear the things Sei didn’t say. They had gone through this so many times, it was impossible to not know what he was thinking. Sei hated repeating himself, which was good, because Yeriko hated explaining himself.

\- He’s not with me. Funny you should call me first considering I don’t usually hang out with the others.  
\- Maybe I just wanted to complain. Again.  
\- You know my advice to you.

 _Stop investing in a relationship that isn’t going to work._

\- I don’t know what to do with him, he began and smiled involuntarily, when he heard his friend groan audibly on the line. - This shit just keeps happening.  
\- Fine. Great. What did Ishida-kun do this time?

Despite everything, Sei was worthy of being called his best friend. Even if he could never be called an ally. Yeriko unloaded the whole mess with the phone and the keyboardist listened quietly, humming in all the appropriate places.

\- I even told him I’d call, he _whined_ and that’s when Sei put his heel down.  
\- Yes, because obviously everyone around you lives to wait for your calls.  
\- You hate me, don’t you?  
\- Actually, no.  
\- Admit it. You hate me and that’s why you have no sympathy for me.  
\- I have no sympathy for anyone. You’re annoying, but I don’t hate you. You’re just Yeriko.  
\- Gee thanks.

Yeriko would’ve loved to say Yamato was the reason his relationship with Sei was only this these days. They used to be really close. Close enough to be called an item during elementary and junior high. In truth, they were probably just too different. 

Sei was someone, who valued principles and honesty. He was pro-euthanasia and pro-choice, and he sincerely believed a person’s body was their personal castle and violators of all these little things he found important, should all be hanged at the hallows.

In other words an eccentric feminist. 

Yeriko believed in the power of alcohol and if he screwed up under influence, it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t a rapist, but if he really wanted someone, a girlfriend or a boyfriend was never a valid obstacle to him. In other words, he was very much in Yamato’s camp in this conversation. _You reap what you sow._ What he didn’t appreciate, were people who fell in love with him and then blamed him for everything that was wrong in their lives.

Yamato was an exception. He was the exception in every rule Yeriko lived by. 

\- Yeriko.  
\- Huh?  
\- If you’re not listening, let me get back to what I was doing. You’re an annoyance.  
\- You really shouldn’t be so direct.  
\- My apologies, Sei’s voice was like the desert. - Let me rephrase that. Don’t you have someone to find? Please, _help_ Ishida-kun understand how much you need to be able to contact him anytime, anywhere.

Yeriko let out an annoyed huff. This guy really needed to learn to pull his punches. He made him sound like a stalker when really, Yeriko was just looking after Yamato, like he always had.

 

The blonde had been thirteen, when they’d first met. He had been tall for his age and winded from being pulled along by Orimoto Atsuki. With his lithe body and blue eyes that were the mirror of his very confused soul, he had reminded Yeriko of a model. His face was pretty and his voice was quiet. That is, until he started singing.

He’d denied a whole year he had fallen in love with him from the moment he first heard him sing.

If nothing else, in Yeriko’s doting care Yamato had grown from a cute boy with exceptional vocal skills to a beauty with an enormous vocal capability. The lyrics he wrote combined with his vulnerable appearance, drew people to him like bees to honey. The way he looked at people drove them mad. Women wanted him. Men wanted him, homosexual or not. He had his pick, but he wasn't picking anyone, for a reason that gave “hope” to those who were serious about him:

He didn't want anyone.

 

\- Yeri-babe, the band’s rhythm guitarist purred to the phone, his voice slightly slurred.  
\- Don’t let me keep you from whatever you’re doing-  
\- Don’t worry, love. I’m not cheating on you, right now.  
\- Yes, well, is Yamato with you?  
\- Whyy? Did something happen with _Yummy_ -chan?

Yeriko smiled to himself. Despite being a royal pain in the ass most of the time, this guy was always in his corner unlike his traitor of a best friend. Listening to his endearments always made him feel a little warm inside. That sort of homeish feeling.

\- I’m looking for him.  
\- Aaww, did he run away from Yeri-babe agaain?  
\- Oh shut up. He’s not with you?  
\- Nope. Better luck calling Macchan.  
\- Matsuko has a phone?  
\- The family one cuz I’m not with him.

Each time a band member or an acquaintance told him they weren’t with Yamato, Yeriko felt his frustration grow. It wasn’t healthy. He knew that much without Sei nagging him. It wasn’t his duty to protect Yamato, yet when he imagined the younger boy out there without a protective net of friends around him, it drove him nuts. Literally.

Yeriko made himself a cappuccino before calling the last piece of the puzzle.

 

\- Hayo! Macchan's not available, call again lateer~  
\- Good try but I can hear the background noises, idiot. 

Not to mention the phone wasn’t Matsuko’s to begin with.

\- Haha, can't fool the Boss~ What's up, Yeriko-san?  
\- Where are you? Is Yamato with you?  
\- At the Rock and why?  
\- Some guy has his phone and I need to talk to him.  
\- Ah, I see.

There was a pause, during which God knows what happened. Then he could hear Matsuko's sweet kansai-ben muffled on the line.

\- 'Matooo, hey, Yeriko-san wants to talk to you. He sounds pissed.  
\- Hang up, came a voice which could only belong to one person.

There was a shuffle and then Matsuko spoke to him.

\- So yeah, haven't seen or heard from him. Bai bai~

At times Yeriko wanted to ask himself if he was really the person making the band go round, since everyone, even the youngest and purest of them, was so around Yamato's little finger it wasn't funny. He sighed and picked up his jacket. It was time to fetch an idiot from the Rock.

 

Yeriko's ride was a last year's blue Suzuki GSX 600 F Katana. A customized little toy for his father's only son. He had a car now too, but he would have to wait a couple of months or so before he could legally start driving. He looked forward to it but driving a car after getting used to his bike's steady purring between his thighs... well, yeah. Growing up seemed to be letting go of all the things that made him excited.

Sei always told him to take a deep breath before talking to Yamato. The guy knew how easily the blonde got under his skin even in everyday conversations given an opening. Even a little one. Being calm didn't stop the involuntary jumping in his chest at the sight of the familiar back, when he entered the bar.

Matsuko saw him first and grimaced a little. He didn't seem very surprised to see him and turned back to his companion without another greeting to him. Yeriko walked up to them and laid his hand on Yamato's shoulder, letting him know his displeasure with that one touch.

\- Goddamnit Ishida, he growled. - Take care of your belongings will you?  
\- ‘Attacking is the best defence', the blonde cited monotonously. - But are you sure you're not attacking out of desperation?  
\- What are you talking about?

The bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen turned to him slowly, almost sweetly. They had him questioning his real reasons of wanting to find this guy tonight.

\- Go. What are you talking about?

Now he noticed. They had a mini-go table set between them on the bar. Yeriko wasn't really into playing board games but even he could tell the bassist was losing.

\- Just, your cell. Someone found it.  
\- Oh. 

Just _oh_. Nothing more was coming, Yeriko could tell. A vein was starting to throb on his temple. It was always, always best to pissed as fuck when talking to Yamato.

\- Yamato, _you little shit!_  
\- Whoa! Are you angry?

The bassist laid his hand on Yeriko's wrist to keep him from the hitting the guy. His dark eyes told him to calm down before someone got hurt. Matsuko was like that, always stepping in-between fights, always protecting Yamato, or his cousin, or in the very rare cases, Sei. He was actually very similar to Yeriko, except he never got angry.

Yamato looked at them for a moment blankly, then tapped his pockets with his hands and even checked the ones in his jacket. He frowned and gave another look at Yeriko's slowly calming face.

\- It's gone, how weird.  
\- You didn't even notice? 

Yeriko felt defeated, again. It sucked. He took a deep breathe and gave his phone to the air-brain.

\- Call the kid who found it, he ordered.  
\- Why? Just let him keep it, right? I can always buy a new one.

The vein started throbbing again and Matsuko picked up the phone in one fast move, dialed Yamato's number and pushed it to the blonde's hands. 

\- Just do it, 'Mato, he said in bored kansai-ben. - You love arguing with Yeriko-san but really just, do as he says this time. I wanna get to the drinking part soon.  
\- Right, the drinking part...

Yamato seemed to relent at the mention of alcohol and obediently waited for that someone to pick up. Yeriko sighed and pulled himself a seat. He was supposed to be worried about how the members of his band were getting out of hand, but Yamato was easier to work with when he was drunk. Easier to silence with a kiss.

 

*

 

The familiar sound of ringtone brought Satoru out of half-sleep. He’d already forgotten about the phone he now maneuvered out of his jean pocket. He’d heard the song before, he thought, today at work. A customer had asked for a rock channel and that hard rock song had come up, sung in a low, yet very young voice. _You know my name_. What an odd piece to choose as a ringtone, really. He wondered blearily if it said something about the owner.

\- Uh, hello? Kira speaking... he answered the phone, before he decided it was just too strange to answer a Japanese cellphone. 

He hadn’t had much use for his Nokia back home either. Not after the adverse way Sam had reacted. Why did people need to be able to contact each other anytime, everywhere anyway?

\- This is Ishida Yamato, came a new voice on the line, even though the header had read _Senpai_ again. - I hear you have found my phone.

 _So he was found. He must’ve been on the other side of the world._ This voice belonged to someone young and quiet, with a mix of honey and ice in his voice. Via phone line he couldn’t tell which was real and which the one this boy was going for.

\- I have it, he told Yamato.

Yes, he wanted to kick himself. Could he be more obvious? He was Mr. Obvious. The boy on the line laughed quietly.

\- Yes, that’s obvious. Were you sleeping?  
\- I was, actually.

Someone was laughing in the background. He thought he could hear someone say: _Matsuko, don’t cheat._ They seemed to be quite close to the phone, yet Satoru couldn’t tell if they were laughing at him or something else. At least he hadn’t been put on a speaker - considering the music was still in the background, not in his face.

\- Where did you find it?  
\- I didn’t steal it, Satoru defended himself against the inquiry. - It was crying out for help when I found it, abandoned in the street. You really should take better care of your belongings. I couldn’t just leave it there, you know!

He was talking nonsense. It was like one of those times when he’d explain to his brother about his day and color the boring everyday routines with dramatic overtures. He wasn’t talking to his brother now though. This was embarrassing. As if to deal the death blow, the boy on the line started laughing again.

\- I didn’t think you had, Yamato assured him. 

Satoru was so tired. He felt like this guy was playing around with him. He really didn’t seem like the type of person who lost his belongings all the time. Then why had he this time? On purpose?

\- I can assure you, the caller continued, his voice absolutely dripping cold honey. - I had nothing to do with the _little darling_ ’s lonely adventure today.

The Beatles. Satoru caught the sing-a-song reference and focused his gaze to his ceiling, quite pleased with himself. It was sometimes hard to catch english words in the middle of Japanese sentences. Young people tended to use them a lot, he understood. This one had a nice pronunciation.

\- Whatever. Is there a good time to pick it up?

Satoru blinked.

\- What?  
\- The phone. I was asking if there was some specific time you wanted me to come pick it up.  
\- Uh, tomorrow. You move around in the Roppongi-area right? I work there, in a café called Aorosa. Do you know it?  
\- Aorosa, the place with the cliché blue sign outside?  
\- Well, I’m sorry if it’s too cliché for you.

He was awake now. Goddamnit, he could’ve slept an hour more at least. If he stayed in bed, he would never be able to get up in an hour. Oh well, he thought, pushing himself out of bed. _Might as well start reading now. The entrance exam is way too early in the morning._

\- Whoa, pissy much. Are you the type that’s grumpy in the morning? What time?

This time he caught himself from saying another stupid “What?” and instead worded the proper answer in his head before letting it out.

\- I start working around three p.m. Feel free to stop by anytime.  
\- Will do.. Thank you, Kira-kun. I’m glad my darling wasn’t lost forever.

It was only after they’d hang up on each other, that Satoru remembered he’d been supposed to ask about the compensation. Or had he just abandoned the thought once he heard that sweet voice talking to his ear? Horrified with such an idea, he threw the phone away from him. _Stupid, stupid Satoru._

He’d struck gold, when he’d contacted the high school in Roppongi. Even though he was late with his application - way late - they’d been excited about his grades in his previous school and so had proposed he took a qualification exam during the spring break. It was all good and roses, except Satoru tended to stress under exam fever, so it Wasn’t a small thing to worry about and…

There was the rent and the insurances. 

No. Not now. No. He’d decided the school stuff would come first. He had the exam in eight hours. It was 22:20 and he still needed to sleep after this. He had an insistent headache drumming again his skull from the inside. There was no way he would amount to much if he didn’t get even an hour and two recess. He slumped down in his kitchen chair and stared at the books on the table. This - really - sucked.


	2. The Band called DeadDay

The beginning of a new day. Yamato looked out of the kitchen window in the 18th floor apartment in Roppongi Hills Residence D. The view was certainly impressive but considering he had nearly the same view just a floor down made it lose the first time glamour. Not that he was visiting Yeriko for the first time, rendering the previous thought invalid in any case. The morning shrouded the tall buildings around in sleepy sort of mist. There were some condensed drops on the window, making it seem as if he was looking at a cloud from the inside. 

It was going to be another beautiful day. 

The blonde fifteen-year-old put down his cup of freshly grinded coffee. He’d been lazy and ordered it via the service desk instead of making use of the high tech coffee machine in the Nakanos’ kitchen. Why should he bother when he was so well taken care off? The bitter thought drowned under the bitter taste of coffee without sweeteners or milk. It was a punishment, he thought and made love to the standard cup with his fingers. A punishment for being him.

Yeriko couldn’t hide his presence worth shit. He was tall and somewhat intimidating in scruffy bed hair and uncovered intensity in his dark coffee eyes. Yamato moved his head discreetly to the side just enough to admire the shirtless body. Matsuko came as a close second when it came to beautiful bodies but Yeriko really topped the cake, being older and more defined. Yamato knew he worked out on top of being the most aggressive drummer he knew. If he wanted to, Yeriko could just pick him up and throw him over his shoulder.

While it was sexy, it was also very, very scary.

\- Here I was hoping you would’ve taken advantage of the kitchen.

Yamato couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth. Like an obligation, though he owed the older boy nothing.

\- Why bother? he said and turned back on the window. 

Sunlight was filtering through the mist and it was beautiful. Within an hour the last vapours of this early morning cloud would die and the sun would remain the winner. By the end of the week the sun’s arrogance would invite larger and thicker clouds and they would have rain just in time for a new school year.

Yamato couldn’t wait for the April showers.

A set of strong hands came to rest on his shoulders and slowly, yet firm, they began kneading the sore muscles there. He leaned back on the powerful body behind him and sighed deep. It felt really good.

Really good.

\- Good morning, Yeriko said, his low baritone resonating pleasantly in Yamato’s sensitive ears.  
\- Good morning, he answered, with comfortable quietness.

In moments like this, when the drummer easily reset the wrong things he said and started over, Yamato forgot why he wasn’t supposed to relax around him. Yeriko could be so teeth-rotting sweet. 

\- Hey… the guy murmured to his ear. - Why did we break up again?  
\- Because you’re a class A jerk. That’s why.

The words held no malice in them like usual. The massage played a large part in making him amiable. Yamato breathed deep and enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere.

\- And if I said I’m sorry?

He shook his head and let out a pleased little moan, when Yeriko’s strong fingers moved to rub the back of his neck. Why exactly wasn’t he dating this man again? 

\- Sei-san said so, he said out loud. - In-band relationships are prohibited from idiots who cannot keep it professional.  
\- Sei can suck my dick.  
\- Do you really want to let him hear you talking this way about him?

He could feel the shudder in his skin-to-skin position with the guy. Yeriko could be the bandleader all he wanted but in the end, it was the keyboardist keeping them in line. It had something to do with being forced in a skirt by his sisters when he was five years old. Haruno Seiji was the scariest person around. He would literally chain an impertinent person to bed and torture the fuck out of them with chains and whips.

Or so it seemed. Yamato had yet to try that out.

\- Also, he said in a monotone now that the hands had stopped, abling him to think again. - I don’t really want to date anyone right now. I’ll just take my time and enjoy my corrupted black heart a little.  
\- Yamato, that’s…

He was saved by the ringing phone. It was the landline and Yeriko moved to the hall to answer it. In the meantime Yamato finished his coffee. The sunny day reminded him of the last few days and the healing process that had been cut short. The healing process he neither deserved nor wanted. 

Like under Yeriko’s hands just now, he was way too easily side-tracked by things that felt good and comfortable. His father had said there was nothing wrong with enjoying himself and there was nothing wrong with wanting happiness and forgetting about the bad stuff that had happened. There was nothing wrong with trusting people. Yamato refused to buy it now. 

The mist outside had disappeared, leaving behind a promise of a gorgeous weather. Inside Yamato the mist still was and there was no sun there to chase it away.

\- Are you listening to me?

Yeriko’s voice cut through his thoughts and he lifted his chin from his arms. The other stood in the doorway, pulling a shirt on - a pity, really. He had done something to his bedhead while Yamato had been lost in his thoughts. The highlights caught the light from the window and looked very - very indigo. The blonde couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself.

\- Not really. Why?  
\- Fuck you. I’ve been talking for like five minutes already. If you’re done with your breakfast, let’s get going. The guys are meeting up at the Rock for some reason before the practise. 

He pushed himself up on his feet and followed the drummer to the hall. He had nothing better to do and meeting up with the band was bound to mean some big news. Of course, big news from someone other than the bandleader himself weren’t necessarily Good news.

 

In the end, he couldn’t keep up with what was being said at all. He had a feeling he’d missed something big at some point. He laid his head upon his arms on the table and pretended to be in a coma, as the talk went on around him.

\- Red or Hot Pink? Is what I’m asking. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.  
\- Just when mama was happy you went back to brown.  
\- The blue highlights look really good on you, Yeri-babe. Who did them anyway?  
\- Yamato did.

He could feel eyes on him and so he just lifted his right hand above his head and dismissed the thought of having done anything.

\- I didn’t.  
\- Don’t act all coy, babe. Of course you did.

They were talking about hair, most likely. Why they were talking about hair was beyond him. Yamato let his hand drop on the table and pulled it back in front of his face. Long hair was a pain. He should get it cut soon, otherwise he’d turn into Those men. The ones that looked like crows nested in their hair. The fibre of his hair was too fine. If Yamato left it alone for a whole day it turned into a knotty mess at the neck.

\- Wavy perm, he thought out loud. 

He’d had straight hair since he could remember. Maybe he could really go out on a limb if he was planning to get a haircut anyway. A complete style-change, just like what Yeriko had wanted. _A jump from a straight-lazed grade A kid to a visibly wild rocker. Not too wild though._ Yamato could go from visually imposing quiet kid, to a more flowery look. 

\- I agree, it might look really good on you, Yammy-chan.

He pushed himself up and leaned back in his chair. The movement was lazy but still too fast for someone with his low blood pressure. It made his head spin. 

\- Good morning, Ishida-kun, the boy directly opposite to him said, his dark lavender lips twitching into a smile.

Haruno Seiji, the scariest person he knew, was dressed in girls’ sailor uniform. His skirt was red and his grey tie had a red pin on it. Yamato liked the way the guy could wear this crap and still remain manliest in the band. He was the shortest too, which made him even more impressive. 

\- Good morning, he said and let his eyes drop somewhere around the guy’s thin waist. 

This guy said he liked the way skirts had full air-circulation and fluttered around his thighs. The only place he wore pants was school. 

\- It’s cosplay, Sei told him from under the long black wig and he smiled a little. 

Of course it was. It also looked very good.

Next to the cosplay freak on his right side, dressed in khaki shorts and The Beatles t-shirt, sat the youngest band member, Ayakawa Matsuko, who was paying more attention to his The Rock deluxe sandwich than the other members. Matsuko’s cousin sat on Sei’s left side, looking every bit the flower boy he was. Orimoto Atsuki - though he went by Asuko these days, embracing his newly found transpansexuality - had been Yamato’s saviour multiple times in the past. He insisted it went both ways but Yamato didn’t see how that could be. They had clicked from the start, being the most emotionally messed up people in the group.

There was a look in Asuko’s eyes which spelled trouble. The _I need to talk to you about something_ -look.

Yamato turned his eyes to Yeriko. Yeriko, who needed to wipe that smirk off his stupid face or Yamato would do it for him.

\- Were you talking about style changes? he asked a little awkwardly.  
\- Yup! Asuko grinned. - Wanna join in?  
\- ...Sure.

They had apparently received some notes from their label.

\- So they say we look good but we lack visual style though we’re under visual kei -label. Apparently being bad-ass on stage isn’t good enough anymore.  
\- They want us to look like freaks outside the stage too? Yamato groaned.  
\- You got it, Matsuko the bassist said with a grin from behind his half-eaten sandwich.

Not surprisingly, it was their leader who put his mind to rest.

\- They’re forbidding you from changing your hair, so you’re off the hook.

Asuko’s idea of freak was bright pink hair. Yamato could tell from the look in his tea-colored eyes he wanted it even more than the tattoo last year. He never got the tattoo. He had shocked his adoptive parents couple of years ago by going dark red but since then he’d seemed to mellow out. As Yamato had thought, he still had much worse in him, just waiting to come out.

Sei was fine the way he was, too. It was disgustingly cliché to have that one required person who dressed like a girl, as Yamato wanted to hit the world with a bang, not fit regulations of a certain genre. He still wouldn’t be the one telling Sei he couldn’t dress the way he wanted to. No way.

What surprised him was Matsuko lacking protests towards changing his good boy -style. 

\- My parents are fine with it, he said simply, without going into detail.

To think the kid was only fourteen.

\- I wanna do it before school year kicks in. I wanna be the new freak!  
\- That’s my Macchan, his cousin cooed. - You going to help us out, Yammy?  
\- Yes.  
\- Then it’s a date! We’re going out to buy shock-colors tomorrow!

Yeriko was making that face again, the _That’s why I know you care_ -face. Yamato looked away from it and rubbed his temples. The punishment from trying to maintain a paradox between _I don’t care about anything_ and _I love this band_ was a headache that was like the drum beat in _Empty with you._

 

As they got up to leave the bar/café, Yamato found himself behind everyone with the other guitarist. Asuko’s thin fingers were gripping his sleeve a little too tightly. It meant he was either excited as Hell - or terrified.

\- Let’s go somewhere after practise, okay?  
\- On scale from one to 10, how serious is this? Yamato asked, keeping his volume down just in case. 

To him, it looked like this was something Asuko didn’t want to share with the others yet. If ever. That was never a good sign.

\- Maybe six? Or seven?  
\- Are you asking me?

Mortal danger would’ve been 10. Anything under eight went under excitement or the Yeriko-issue. Yamato happened to think about his phone and found himself looking at the oldest boy’s back. Would the great leader let him slip away?

\- It’s got nothing to do with Yeri, the brunette murmured.  
\- Everything you do has something to do with him.  
\- Oh that’s so not true, and also unfair!

Yamato let it go and they continued walking in silence. After a while, the other guitarist relaxed enough to let go of his sleeve. Once he saw that, he answered to the first proposition.

\- I can’t today. I lost my phone-  
\- Again?!  
\- No, really, it’s fine. Somebody found it this time.

Everyone was making this into a big deal. It was just a lost phone. He could just call the phone service and have them kill his sim-card. Easy as dancing. The contacts and numbers were as safe as anything.

\- Oh, so you’re picking it up today.  
\- Yes.

The light breeze felt really nice in his hair. Maybe he wouldn’t cut it after all. He picked up a strand and looked at it from close range. He would have to get rid of the split ends at least before school started. Whether he was going to go or not.

\- I love your hair, Asuko said with a dreamy smile.  
\- Then go blonde instead of hot pink.  
\- Are you serious? No way in Hell. I’d rather just run my hands through yours.

Yamato laughed and slapped the other boy’s greedy hand away, when it reached for his head.

\- Nope.

Asuko let his hand drop and laughed. Yamato wished he was as socially adept as this guy. The guitarist came off as someone clingy and vulgar but he listened to other people, even to the things that weren’t said out loud. It was something Yamato had always struggled to do. It had ruined the best relationship he had ever had and himself too, from trying again.

\- Hey, let’s talk during the break.  
\- The _Maybe Seven, Questionmark_ -issue?  
\- Yeah. I need to get it out and I don’t know who else I could talk about it but you.

There were so many things a person could say with their eyes alone and the moment and the carefully selected words gave him no out. Asuko was always there for him, selfish reasons or not. Yamato nodded and received a beautiful smile.

If they were playing friends, they should play to their hearts’ content. That’s what he’d decided.

The studio they used for practise, was an underground one, as in _you need to have connections to know about this_ and while it was actually an apartment-turned-soundproof-studio, it was the best they could have. Them being able to use it, was all thanks to Yeriko knowing people through his dad’s job. Otherwise, how could one find a studio in Roppongi? The closest public one, the one they’d used up until last year, had been in Shibuya, at Gateway Studios.

The atmosphere changed the moment the band stepped into the studio. To an outsider, they looked professional for once, simply putting their equipment together and tuning their instruments before getting on with it. To Yamato, this particular tension spoke in loud volumes.

They were all putting 100 % into it for once. The air had him wondering, if there was another gig coming up that he hadn’t been informed of. It was as if Yeriko always left him out of the loop with these things, on purpose or not. He wasn’t one to complain though. He only needed a day or so to get his mindset right, and he always, always gave his all in practise.

Music was the only thing he still had.

 

\- Alright, let’s have a break.

Yeriko set down his drumsticks and drank from his personal water bottle. He seemed quite comfortable as he leaned back. Asuko on the other hand seemed Hell bent trying to get him to leave the room. 

\- But Yeri-babe, you know how much I need sugar to keep up with you guys.  
\- I don’t know. I’m a bit tired.  
\- If it was Yammy-chan asking, you wouldn’t even think about it.

Yamato’s eyes met with Asuko’s and he sighed, getting up. _Promises, promises..._

\- Jealous? Yeriko was asking with a shit-eating grin.  
\- I’ll go with you, Orimoto, he interrupted without a second thought. - I feel a bit parched myself.

A relieved smile spread over the flower boy -face and the other guitarist changed targets as naturally as breathing. 

\- Perfect! See you later guys!

It wasn’t until they were outside, that the smile turned back into nervous fidgeting. Yamato could feel the guy tremble against his shoulder where he’d laid his head and awkwardly offered comfort by petting the soft brown hair. Asuko was one more person he knew, who dressed outside the gender box and made it look good with sheer confidence. After he’d joined the band, he’d come in contact with more and more people like this. He wondered if it was just a coincidence, or if he just knew and saw more than before.

It was refreshing though and gave him confidence in return. If Asuko pranced around in a girly haircut and yellow leggings, if Sei showed off his sweet legs in short skirts, it didn’t really matter if Yamato was wearing eyeliner and liked colored hoops in his ears. It didn’t matter, if that _Night Runner_ girl wanted to cover him in feathers like an Easter Chicken. 

\- So there’s this girl in the dorm who was growing weed right? Asuko’s voice was tiny.

Yamato nodded. He remembered the guitarist laughing about it once and Matsuko mentioning about it with a worried frown another time. _She's crazy convincing. I really hate her hanging around Tsukki._

\- She’s probably the sweetest person I know. We’re dating right now.  
\- O-M-G, Yamato carefully articulated every English letter in a dry tone. - You’re in a heterosexual relationship, _no way_. That’s like blasphemy.  
\- I can never tell if you’re serious or teasing me when you use that tone, Yammy.

 _Are you serious?_ Yamato wanted to ask but didn’t. As if he cared who his friends were fucking. Asuko could be going full incest with Matsuko - though in some countries cousins could get married - and Yamato wouldn’t judge him for it. The bassist was hot in this good boy, teeth-rotting sweet, little brotherly way. 

\- Does half the school sleep with Yeriko-senpai just to use the computer he got for his birthday last year?  
\- They would if he wasn’t so damn admirable about it, Asuko retorted with a straight face. 

Yamato laughed.

\- I was teasing you obviously. It’s fine, as long as I’m not invited to any weddings.  
\- Oh I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the marrying type.

The guy was relaxing again. That was good. Yamato liked the usual Asuko the best. The brazen one, who was full of advice and good humor. This baby chicken’s imprinting act was making him nervous and he didn’t like the feeling. It was like when he knew he was making a mistake and did it anyway, for the heck of it.

\- I caught myself writing ceremonies to her ass. I had to ask her out.  
\- Understandable. Though I write ceremonies to senpai’s abs all the time. His arms too.  
\- I know right? I could eat him up every time he takes off his shirt!  
\- With my eyes at least.

They shared a look and a secret smile. It was scary how someone could understand you perfectly without being told anything. As well as you could love a guy’s muscles without being in love with the guy.

\- Was it any good? Yamato asked with a small sigh.

He was tired of dancing around the subject when it had been clear to him from the moment the culprit had been mentioned just what made this guy a nervous wreck.

\- Sex?  
\- The weed.

They were quiet while picking up their poison at the vending machine. Yamato went with a pocari and the other guitarist with something in a bright orange can. Something, that was bound to be full of sugar. They started their way back, but didn’t get far before Yamato found himself pressed against the wall, with a desperate shorter guy leaning against his chest.

For the next five minutes Asuko talked to him quietly in a voice that only trembled a little. It had been one of the best decisions of his life and the sex after had been super. He had planted his own cannabis seeds with her help and it was like watching their baby grow, though the thought of getting caught doing it made him really nervous.

\- She has different types of narcotic plants growing in her room. I thought they were just plants in the beginning but she’s been teaching me about them. I’ve tried some of those out too. And she makes her own mixes based on her own experiences.  
\- Atsuki, you need to be careful with that stuff.  
\- Yeah. Yeah, I know. It just feels really good. You should come over sometime. Try it with me.

Well, it wasn’t as if Yamato wasn’t interested in that stuff. He was plenty convinced too, that a person could use with caution and be okay in the end. Asuko was one of the most level-headed people he knew. This was the guy, who actually understood the stuff they taught at school. He nodded and the other guitarist grabbed his hand in his tightly.

\- I’ll make sure nothing bad happens. She’ll be there too.  
\- Sure. 

The brunette laughed then with obvious relief. Yamato understood him so well it hurt. Why he couldn’t tell anyone. Why he’d been so nervous. The fingers clutching the front of his shirt were still trembling. He tried imagining having to tell his father something like this and it hurt. 

\- I’m so glad, Asuko whispered.  
\- You’re not about to be abandoned. Also, you’re being careful, right? Why would I judge you for your decisions? You’re the only judge that matters.  
\- Yeah. Thanks.  
\- You’re having the honor-student jitters. It’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong.  
\- Yeah.

Before they entered back in the studio Yamato stopped Asuko by the hand, turning him to look at him directly in the eyes. There was something he wasn’t getting here. 

\- Atsuki…  
\- I’m sorry, Yammy-chan. I really am. I’m such a mess, dragging you into this and all.  
\- You’re not dragging me into anything.  
\- But-  
\- No, I’ve been curious about it. It’s not like you’re forcing this down my throat.  
\- Yeah. I really love you, Yamato, you know? So much.

There was no lie there. Yamato inclined his head and let out a snort to hide his embarrassment over the cheesy words. 

\- Then aren’t you banging the wrong person, idiot?

Asuko laughed and his laugh was so much more genuine, _real_ , than Yamato’s.

\- I may be a masochist, Yammy-chan, but you’re so out of my reach I’m not risking it.  
\- What’s with that? he laughed and couldn’t help but feel a little bitter again.

They got in and the practice resumed after some squabble over them not bringing drinks to everyone else. They hadn’t asked, so of course they hadn’t brought any. It was settled, when Asuko shared his drink with his cousin in a sick boyfriendly way. Yamato couldn’t bring himself to watch it, fearing his teeth would fall off.

He met Yeriko’s quizzical gaze head on. His lips turned upwards. _Yes, you would like to know, wouldn’t you. Here’s all the fucks I give._

\- Alright! Let’s take Paralyzed from the top again! Asuko, you’re lagging behind!

 

*

 

Three o’clock came around too fast, the band’s youngest thought, as he was packing up his equipment for the day. A lot of things sucked about today. Just when he thought they were really getting into something, Yeriko put a stop to it. It was always like this, too! What Matsuko worried about the most was having to dye his hair. He’d never even had highlights and now he was supposed to go full-out? Also, Atsuki had been really down about something all morning. What was that about? Why couldn’t he just open up about it like Matsuko always did?

Yamato had promised to be there, when they selected the colors. That was some comfort. Despite how much he drank, the blonde had a sense of aesthetics different from Atsuki’s wild gay flare. Plus, if Yamato would do his hair for him… Yeriko’s hair was kind of cool. The bandleader caught him looking and nodded towards Yamato, who was already done packing.

 _What?_ he mouthed and Yeriko nodded pointedly towards the leaving blonde again. Matsuko looked back to Yamato and figured their great leader wanted him to go with the vocalist. _Oh. The phone._ Yamato was supposed to pick it up from the stranger today. 

Yamato and strangers were never a good combination.

Matsuko picked his bass up and ran after the guy. If all went well he might even score a lunch for this! Without having to do anything for it.

\- Oh look! There's a golden head! he chirped, throwing his arms around the guy’s shoulders from behind.

He didn’t fear his karate-skills, considering the guitarist was carrying his instrument and probably had more love for it than that - and Matsuko had given him a warning. His gamble proved to be right. Yamato bent forward under his weight but otherwise remained solid on his feet despite being light-weight.

\- Hey, watch it, stupid! 

Matsuko always loved it, when he got special treatment from this person. He’d hated it at first but now he felt like every insult they exchanged was a confession of a deeper friendship. Yamato never bothered getting openly pissed with the others. Of course it had a lot to do with him being the little brother of his best friend and Yamato being weak against the little brother type…

Never mind!

\- You’re going to Aorosa now, aren’t you? 

He watched a light frown form between the sky blue eyes. He wondered again, if it was really that easy for the spoiled type to throw expensive stuff away. Atsuki had told him Yamato’s case was a little different but Matsuko didn’t really understand how. He didn’t even have a cellphone yet. As long as he hung around with Atsuki, his parents figured they would reach him if needed.

\- It was the new model too. Such a waste.  
\- You’re talking as if it’s gone forever.

Oh, he’d slipped into observation mode without realizing it. He’d even let go of his prey. Yamato didn’t even know yet he was expecting lunch from him.

\- If you’re coming with me, stop spacing out. I’m not going to wait up.  
\- So you are going!

Matsuko skipped after the older boy and smiled at the sky. Yamato halted in his steps a little to let him catch up, no matter what he’d just said. It was funny, how just a year ago he’d been sure he would never fit in with the older boys. They all seemed so eccentric and unreachable. Thank goodness he’d had experience with his cousin. In the core of all these people, laid a sensitive person _who wanted to spoil the youngest member._ If he was cute enough.

And he was. Very cute.

\- Senpai made you run after me? Yamato suddenly asked and Matsuko chuckled embarrassedly.  
\- Maybe.  
\- I can’t believe him. I already said I would go.  
\- Well, you have a track-record.

From the glare he received, he understood he wasn’t playing it cute enough here, siding with Yeriko. Then again, because Yamato would return to school this year, they would be worth the same in school hierarchy. Perhaps Matsuko liked playing with fire a little. He knew Yamato would soften up with the little brother -card up his sleeve.

\- I’m your safety-net, he announced then, causing Yamato to snort.  
\- Against what?  
\- Getting assaulted by a possible psycho-stalker who has your phone in his possession.  
\- _Oh my God._  
\- Yup, so I’ll be your BODYguard, haha.

Yamato looked at him for a good while - the whole time they crossed a parking lot actually - with the same incredulous look he always wore, when Matsuko tried his carefully thought out jokes on him. Sometimes he even laughed. This wasn’t his lucky day. The blonde took out cigarette pack and lighted himself one. Being the jerk he was, he didn’t offer Matsuko one.

Not that he smoked.

\- You are so lucky I like you, even if you’re the biggest fool in all Japan.  
\- Yeah well, you’re lucky I like you, even though you’re being a jerk about it!

They quarrelled the rest of the way, until Yamato decided to keep walking even though they’d already reached their destination. The antique -style sign was cleanly left behind.

\- What is it about you and losing phones, ‘Mato? he called after him.  
\- What? was his answer. - Keep up, little Macchan.  
\- But you passed the café already!  
\- Oh.

This time the older boy looked behind and shrugged then, hiding the unease on his face. Matsuko wondered, if there was something about the place, or if Yamato was just nervous meeting a new person, even if it was just to pick up one of his possessions. There had been incidents during the past year, where fans had failed to keep their distance when it came to Yamato’s person. Was he worried about that?

\- Well, I’m smoking anyway. Wouldn’t want to waste a good fag.  
\- I think you shouldn’t smoke at all. You’re a singer.  
\- Does it make you uncomfortable? You should think of me as one of those songbirds in cheap old Western films. There was always a lot of cigarette smoke.  
\- We’re not in Mexico, you’re not a whore and I’m worried about your voice. Quit being an asshole.  
\- I know, I’m sorry. You’re so sweet.

Yamato mussed up his hair fondly and Matsuko felt all warm inside again. The blonde cared. It was the reason Matsuko had forgiven him lots of messed up, awkward stuff over the two years he’d hung out with him.

They walked around the block twice. Yamato was lighting up his third cigarette, when his companion finally had enough.

\- Okay, so what’s up with you? Matsuko growled and Yamato’s movements stilled. - Are you alright?

The cancer stick went back into its pack and the older boy turned sharply on the heel of his boot and went straight in - closing the door right in his face. Matsuko had no qualms about giving him the finger. What a jerk!

 _Free meal_ , he had to remind himself as he pulled the door open. Instantly, all these good smells assaulted his senses and he had to swallow not to start drooling on the floor. He loved Western kitchen so much and their sweet stuff even more! 

It was almost four p.m. and Aorosa was filling up with people. There were some empty seats, but apart from one table, all were in use. Matsuko took a step towards that lonely free spot, when Yamato grabbed his arms and shook his head. Then he saw it - a _Reserved_ -notice on top of the antiquish wooden surface.

\- Guess we have to butt in on some other table, the bassist said, not being one so easily defeated.

Yamato shook his head again and Matsuko sighed. Yeah, while the vocalist’s face would get them any seat with girls, there could be - and usually was - trouble afterwards, least of them being bombarded with questions all time long. The rule of the thump here was: _Don’t let or make Yamato mingle._

\- Shit, let’s get this over with, the older boy said under his breath and walked straight to the line.

Matsuko panicked. There was an order to things!

\- Hey! Let’s wait a bit.  
\- Why?

Yamato stopped and waited for him to catch up. More people came in but they took a look around and left right away, disappointed by the lack of space. The blonde looked after them and was probably wishing he could do the same.

\- So we can get a seat, Matsuko explained in jolly way.  
\- You want to stay here?  
\- Yup! he said and decided to reveal his hand right away. - Look here, even if you’re not hungry, I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and I’m starving. We’re in a café, do the math!

There was no joy in the look he received for his trouble, as if he’d somehow betrayed the older boy. For a moment, he was certain Yamato would say something especially mean but that never happened.

\- Oh, the blonde said blandly. - I should’ve known you had some hidden agenda.  
\- I wasn’t hiding it, Matsuko insisted with a perfectly straight face. - I was hoping you’d act like a good friend and offer first.

The vocalist chuckled dryly. He took something from his pocket - it turned out to be a hair tie - and pulled his hair back in the same clean ponytail he used in school. 

\- C’mon, ‘Mato, Matsuko goaded him. - I deserve a little something for guarding your ass. Yeah?

Yamato snorted audibly and glanced at him a bit more coyly. Matsuko relaxed at the sight. The trump card always, always worked. 

\- I guess I can treat you, if you ask so nicely. Don’t know why you’d prefer this kind of cliché place, though. Whatever.  
\- Yes! 

He grinned from ear to ear. Goal get! The older boy laughed at him again. 

They were nearing the end of the line. Matsuko stopped talking, when it seemed he wasn’t being listened to. He didn’t really mind the quiet. Quiet was one of those things when it came to hanging out with Yamato. 

He strained his neck and tried guessing, which one of the people behind the counter was the one with the phone. There was a plump woman, who probably ate almost as many of her pies as she made, and an old man. Matsuko didn’t really remember what Yeriko said about the person they were here to meet, but neither of these two fit the image he had. Yamato had done a lot of phone flirting last night.

Yamato didn’t flirt with old people or women.

\- What type do you think this guy-  
\- Welcome!

He appeared out of nowhere, dressed in black slacks and a white apron, with a notebook in his hand. He wasn’t as tall as Matsuko, or even Yamato, but he had this air of a tall, maybe a little impatient person. He was also very, very cute. Flower boy cute. 

\- Are you staying? I could try and see if we can free a table for you soon?  
\- Yes, we’re staying, Yamato said, stepping in when Matsuko was still in awe with the sight in front of him.

Yeah, Yamato didn’t lose to this new guy one bit. Together they looked like - like a garden, maybe. With lots of flowers. If Yamato was a traditional white Lily, this guy was like Sakura blossoms- elegant and cinematic.

\- There’s a long line behind you so if you’d like I can take your order on the side.  
\- That’s kind of you. You’re Kira-kun, though, aren’t you?  
\- Yeah, and you’re the rude owner of that phone.

It was going to South and fast, Matsuko awoke to notice. He’d forgotten for a moment that Yamato didn’t deal well with other people. White Lilies were funeral flowers, and just looking at the equally sharp stare the new boy - Kira? - gave the vocalist made him remember the story behind the color of Sakura.

\- Ah! You’re the phone dude! he made his clumsy, yet probably very welcome entrance.  
\- Um, yes? Kira turned to him.  
\- Hehe.

Matsuko couldn’t help but feel, like this guy was the type Yamato was the weakest with as he proceeded to lay down his list of baked goods. He would’ve ordered more, if Yamato hadn’t hit him in the back of his head.

\- That’s ten sentences too long, stupid.

The bassist chuckled again. It wasn’t as if Yamato would go bankrupt just for this much and the atmosphere had easened up again. At least these two had stopped measuring each other up like a pair of young male wolves.

\- Don’t worry about the table, the blonde continued then in a softer tone. - We’ll find some place to sit on our own.  
\- I’m not. I reserved a table for you earlier… The boy’s cheeks reddened somewhat. - Um, just in case.  
\- Oh? Again, very kind of you.

Matsuko’s hands started sweating. It wasn’t like Yamato to go from cold to hot in a matter of seconds. He was outright flirting with the waiter. Had he been right about Yamato’s type? Could it be possible, that the blonde actually had a type he’d been hiding all this time in plain sight?

\- I’m going to have to ask you to wait for an hour or so, Kira was saying in a neutral tone. - We don’t usually have so many customers outside rush hours and… Yes, so I can’t have my break right now.  
\- That’s fine. This guy isn’t going to eat all that in just ten minutes.

Yamato indicated to the list in the waiter’s hands and he pressed it closer to his chest as if just now remembering he was at work and not supposed to be mingling with customers. Or then he thought Yamato was going to take the list from him. Matsuko would've been scared of that.

\- I’ll bring your order in a moment. Please enjoy your stay.

Matsuko decided he really liked the boy’s smile. It was open and warm. He glanced at Yamato and sighed. The blonde was already turning to walk to their table, the reserved one near the window. He turned back to the waiter to apologise for his friend’s behavior but even that guy had dumped him cold. 

Oh well.

\- ‘Mato, wait up!

 

While a table beside the window was one his cousin would’ve chosen for them during shopping, Matsuko knew it wasn’t Yamato’s favorite. The vocalist was the type to sit somewhere out of immediate sight, had been so even before the whole mess with Taiki-san. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and changing tables would’ve caused even more attention. Matsuko could tell it wasn't improving Yamato's bad mood. It was always hard to keep up with the blonde. One moment he was smiling a happy, secret smile, and the next, the air around him would turn heavy. Like yesterday, at the arcade. The Yamato he met at noon and the Yamato he met in the evening, were like two different people. He wondered what had happened in-between, to make him so anxious. Matsuko watched as the blonde moved his long-fingered hands constantly - as he absent-mindedly rubbed the pearly lines on his wrists, and wondered what was going on behind his empty eyes. It wasn't unusual for the guitarist to get lost in his thoughts, but right now he was light-years away from the café. Matsuko had let him escape.

\- I love you, he said as a test but didn’t receive an answer. - I wish you weren’t so down. Things would be a lot easier for you if you tried seeing all the positive things around you. It’s not like you’re alone or that no one cares about you. You’re so beautiful and talented. You can do whatever you want and you’d be good in it. Stop running yourself down like this. Please.

 _Thing is, you can’t say those things to Yamato. He’s not ready to hear them yet, Macchan._ Matsuko knew his cousin was right when he said that, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. It had been almost two years since then. Wasn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Why wasn’t Yamato able to move on? A guy like Yagami Taiki wasn’t worth ruining his life over. No one was supposed to be worth it.

\- Did you say something? 

He blinked and saw Yamato had returned to him on his own. His blue eyes were still clouded by whatever was wrong with him, but it seemed he was done thinking for now. Yamato’s eyes were the most beautiful eyes in the world, if Matsuko was asked. They were like Heero Yuy’s eyes.

\- Just wondering, why they write his name Heero Yuy, when he’s Japanese and Yuy is his surname.  
\- Why this again?  
\- It’s bothering me. It’s a Japanese series too.

Mundane topics were the only way to distract Yamato when he got too gloomy. Atsuki was the one who had told him to talk about anything, anything at all. _Because it’s not like Yamato actually wants to die._

He didn’t remember, when exactly he’d decided anime was a safe topic. Yamato wasn’t really interested in it, even if he’d let Matsuko show him his favorite series before, and there was nothing linking it to what had happened to him. Still, Yamato was able to keep up with him, when he talked about Gundams now. Once, while desperately drunk, he’d said listening to Matsuko talk about his favorite things was calming. That he liked it. They had kissed too.

\- Here’s your order! 

Right away he was saved from his embarrassing thoughts by their waiter appearing with the baked goods and two cups of tea. Matsuko didn’t remember Yamato ordering any tea but it seemed like the blonde had been expecting his anyway. Maybe it had just escaped his notice at the time.

Kira’s eyes were blue, Matsuko was startled to notice. They were calm as he was laying down the plates. His typically Japanese dark hair was kept out of his face by a bandanna. His hands were white like foreigner’s and he still spoke a bit too formally for comfort.

\- Thanks! Matsuko beamed at him and received another warm smile as an answer.  
\- Oh and it looks like I could take my break a little earlier, the boy continued glancing at Yamato with careful eyes. - If you’ll come to the back room in a half I’ll give you the phone.  
\- Is that an _invitation_? Yamato asked him nonchalantly while lifting his cup to his pale lips.  
\- Um yes?

Kira seemed puzzled and only realized what was asked when Yamato’s slowly growing smile reached it’s top. A scandalous look of horror rose on his pretty face. 

\- What - no! Of course not! Why would you- Just, enjoy your stuff! 

He escaped, all red in the face. Yamato chuckled and the sound was startlingly genuine for him. Matsuko’s guard was up in a second. 

\- He’s not that cute, he protested.  
\- You’ve been staring at him the whole time, though, Yamato pointed out sweetly. - And, I think he is.  
\- Doesn’t mean you should be this easy. He could be a stalker or worse. What would you have done if he took you seriously just now?  
\- I don’t think he is. He didn’t go all squeal on me when I introduced myself yesterday. 

Yamato had to know people could fake things. Matsuko could imagine Kira’s pretty face with an expression of inhibited glee on it when he looked through Yamato’s phone records and kept his voice down, when he finally got a call from the blonde. The imaginary was even more creepy because Kira was so cute. 

\- I don’t know, he said, squirming in his seat. - There’s some sick people out there.  
\- Don’t I know that, Yamato admitted but still didn’t give off a feeling that he was concerned enough. - Well, if he turns out _evil_ … At least he’s cute.  
\- No, Yamato. 

Matsuko had to stop this train of thought immediately. It reminded him of Yamato two years ago, right after he got released from the hospital. The helpless spiral of destruction that had only been stopped when they formed the band again. Laid down the protective net to help Yamato piece himself together again. Matsuko didn't want to hear him say stupid things again. 

_It was weird, I mean he was as old as my dad. There’s no way I could enjoy myself with someone like that. At least he was kind. Didn’t hurt me too much._

\- You’re not taking this seriously. What if you actually get assaulted?  
\- Well, you know, Yamato leaned a little forward with a glimmer in his eyes. - You did call yourself my BODYguard. Isn’t that like chastity belt? 

Matsuko glared at Yamato, who tried for an innocent smile but failed miserably. In a way, he was supposed to be happy Yamato had found a distraction and was clearly in a better mood now than before. He just couldn’t help but worry. The blonde wasn’t the best judge of character. Not that Matsuko was either, but of the two of them, he was the better one. 

He reached out and took Yamato’s hand, the one holding a ripped piece of croissant. He brought the hand to his lips and ate whatever was left of the pastry he’d ordered and Yamato had mostly eaten. 

\- I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  
\- You better keep that promise, Yamato told him sweetly. - I’m paying for your food.  
\- Yup! A dog will never bite the hand that feeds him.  
\- So you’re a dog now? 

When the promised half an hour came to pass, Matsuko noticed Yamato’s gaze fixing somewhere behind him. By then they had two other boys in their table taking advantage of Matsuko’s food. They were classmates from their old school and Matsuko was never one to let anyone say fame made him abandon his roots. 

The blond stood up and excused himself simply. 

\- Is he going to the loo? one of the other boys asked. 

Matsuko stuffed the rest of his Danish pastry in his mouth and excused himself as well, hurrying after Yamato. He was flaming pissed that the vocalist still didn’t have faith in him. As a proof, the older boy only gave him a side-ways look when he reached him. 

\- You’re being unreasonable, he was told.  
\- How else am I supposed to stand hanging out with you? 

No one gave them a second glance, when they walked straight to the _staff-only_ -door. Yamato knocked on it and without a further ado pushed it open. The door gave in to a small dressing room, where their cute waiter was digging into a bag. Matsuko closed the door behind them. 

\- Hi, just a second. I have it right - here! 

He looked a little winded when he straightened up with a familiar phone in his hand. He walked up to them and offered it to Yamato who reached for it. How the phone ended up falling on the floor between them, Matsuko didn’t have time to see. He did see the reluctance etched in the blonde’s face as he stared at the phone on the floor. 

Then he bent down to pick it up. 

Matsuko stared hard at the strange boy the whole time but still couldn’t see the calm mask cracking. It was as if Kira was as genuine as he seemed. When Yamato got pack on their level, his face was again closed off in the way it did when he got lost in thought. The bassist decided to give him time. 

He put his hand forward right when Kira opened his mouth to apologise. 

\- I never got to introduce myself. I’m Ayakawa Matsuko. I think we might be around the same age. 

Come to think of it, wasn’t it weird? Matsuko was fourteen and even if he wanted to work, he couldn’t. Not for two more years. Maybe Kira was helping out his family or something? 

\- I’m Kira, Kira Satoru, nice to meet you, the waiter boy answered heartily and shook his hand. - I’m fourteen. For couple months more.  
\- Then we actually are the same age! Matsuko grinned. - Cool. You kinda seem older. A bit.  
\- I get that a lot. 

Matsuko saw a flash of gold in the corner of his eye. Yamato pushed his hair behind his ear when he looked. 

\- Did you come with me to flirt with the cute waiter? the vocalist asked too sweetly and Matsuko backed off a couple of steps, until he was next to his friend again.  
\- Anyway, he said, trying not to put emphasis on how Yamato had just embarrassed him. - We should get going now. It was really nice to meet you, Kira-kun!  
\- Um, yes. It was. 

They turned around and were just about to start bickering again on their way out, when they heard a thud and then: 

\- Excuse me! I’m sorry but- Ayakawa Matsuko? Ishida Yamato? And, and Nakano Yeriko! You guys wouldn’t happen to be that band, would you? 

_That band._ The boys shared a look, then turned around, both with varying degrees of a smile on their face. 

\- Yes.  
\- We would! Can you honestly say you don’t recognise this face? 

Matsuko pointed rudely at Yamato’s money-maker. The blonde took offense and looked away immediately. Meanwhile, Kira shook his head, looking embarrassed by his outburst. 

\- I haven’t really seen pictures. 

It was this simplicity - this genuine humbleness - that drew Matsuko in. He found that despite his initial rejection of the boy, he liked him. A lot. 

\- It’s kind of cool. Playing in a real band at fourteen.  
\- Your point? 

It was like they danced back and forth, Matsuko thought. First he liked and Yamato didn’t, then Yamato liked and he didn’t. They were back to the beginning again. Yamato’s voice came out as really rude. The look in his eyes, the playfulness from before, had drowned completely. He looked hurt, again. 

\- No, it’s just… Makes me envious a bit.  
\- Oh?  
\- I thought it must be nice, playing your music and having it play on the radio too. And people listening to it.  
\- Oh. Yes. It’s nice.  
\- You play? Matsuko tried lightening up the sudden awkwardness. 

There was nothing worse than being stared at with icy blue eyes when you were trying to connect, somewhat. Matsuko knew they weren’t supposed to give fans special services but this boy was just like him, like them. Yamato was being unnecessary rude. 

\- A guitar, Kira said turning his eyes to him. - Sort of.  
\- If Matsuko got into a band with his skill level, I don’t see why you couldn’t. 

Yamato, again. Matsuko glared at the blonde. 

\- Hey!  
\- I don’t see where you’re getting at, telling us this, the blonde continued coolly. - I’m sorry but I really don’t have sympathy for people who are wishy-washy about what they want.  
\- You know, Kira spat out, and they were back to the cold war from the beginning. - You really piss me off.  
\- Oh?  
\- Yes. You’ve accomplished something and you probably worked hard to get where you are but you’re looking down at people, who are not so fortunate. You’re really hot and cold, aren’t you?  
\- And?  
\- You’re here because you lost your phone. I found it so I know. You’re not infallible, you’re just a human like everyone else! So try getting down from your high horse, why don’t you? 

Matsuko gave up. He took a seat while watching these two guys battle it out. This was probably something Yamato had needed, a fight. Back in the day, he had blown off his top all the time. They weren’t really allowed to have full out fights within the band now, that they had debuted. Holding his emotions in was probably really hard for a hothead like Yamato. 

It wasn’t as if Matsuko didn’t miss seeing him lively like this. 

\- I can’t handle smart-asses like you, Yamato growled. - You don’t know a thing about me! What gives you the right to get on my case? It’s not like I wanted to get the damn phone back!  
\- And that’s not at all fucked up? Are you so damn well off you can go throwing stuff away at whim?!  
\- Yes, I am.  
\- Well, fuck that. At least do it right! There are recycling points to throw away electronic waste! 

It was beautiful. Yamato was losing. No, Matsuko had to correct himself, Yamato had lost. It was the first time he’d seen the blonde speechless. 

\- I’m… sorry, he said, his voice almost inaudible. 

Kira seemed a bit startled to read something on the vocalist’s face that Matsuko couldn’t see from where he was. 

\- Well, he answered awkwardly. - As long as you realise. 

Yamato’s hand were trembling in fists and he simply turned on his heels and took off. The sound of his comfy leather boots faded fast after the door clicked shut. Matsuko looked after him, knowing he should probably run if he wanted to catch him, but he didn’t. 

He had to congratulate the winner. 

\- I’m so sorry, he began and jumped a little when Kira started at his words.  
\- No, the boy said breathlessly. - I didn’t realise you were still there. I think I upset him.  
\- He’s a bit of a drama queen, Matsuko hurried to assure him. - And he was really rude to you. Let me apologise for that.  
\- Yes, he was. I mean… 

The waiter boy sighed before taking a deep breath. He picked up a water bottle from his bag on the floor and turned to Matsuko again. 

\- I forgot to ask for compensation. Again. It sucks.  
\- You wanted one? 

Matsuko pursed his lips at the thought. Then again, he would’ve made Yamato pay a whole lot of money, had he been in Kira’s shoes. He was that kind of a person after all. He didn’t have much, so he took what he could get. No remorse there. He had another thought and went with it, taking out his own wallet and checking at the allowance he’d got just a day earlier. It was supposed to be for a whole month but he could just make Yamato pay him back later. 

\- Tell you what. Take this. 

He offered the money to the other boy, who took with a surprised and a little ashamed look on his face. He obviously wasn’t used to asking for money or taking any like this. 

\- But it’s not your phone.  
\- Well, you know, Matsuko joked. - If I’m lucky he’ll marry me one day.  
\- I don’t know why you would want to marry _that._

Matsuko winced and had to defend Yamato a little. The blonde could be seriously annoying at times but he wasn’t so bad. There were extenuating circumstances here, a lot of them. 

\- I promise you, he said seriously. - If you got to know him, you’d fall in love with him. There’s so much more to Yamato than just what’s on the surface.  
\- Since I don’t know better, I just have to take your word for it, Kira sighed. - Though what makes you think I like boys? 

_Your flower boy face_ , Matsuko thought. 

\- You don’t have to be gay to fall in love with Yamato, he said. 

The other just looked at him for a long time, reminding him of Yamato after Matsuko told a joke. Only Matsuko wasn’t exactly joking here. 

\- Which school will you go to? he asked the unmoving face then.  
\- Oh, Roppongi senior high. 

The bassist’s face broke into a sparkling smile. 

\- Hey! Me too! he cheered. - Him too, actually.  
\- I see. Well, see you at school. I need to get back to work now. 

Matsuko let the other lead him to the door and and back into the café area. It was eerie somehow, thatno matter what had happened behind the closed door, the customers on this side were absolutely unaffected. It was almost like he’d fallen asleep and the whole staff room incident had been a dream. 

\- See you at school, Kira-kun, he said with all of his heart and was lucky to see a little flush on the waiter’s face.  
\- Yes. Have a nice day, Ayakawa-kun. Goodbye. 

To Matsuko’s delight, a familiar blonde waited for him outside the café. The hand holding a cigarette was no longer trembling which was a good sign. He didn’t talk at all first, just adjusted himself to Yamato’s steady pace as they started walking. After a while, he knew he should say something to make this guy relax. What he said was: 

\- You owe me. 

Just that and he heard another familiar snort, indicating he was being listened to. He continued, telling Yamato how much he’d paid Kira and that the cute waiter went to their school - or would once the school year would kick in. They passed a cash machine and after a thoughtful moment Yamato returned to it, paying him back for the money he’d used. 

It might’ve been an apology but Matsuko doubted it was one. Pissed at him or not, Yamato would’ve paid him back. He was that responsible of a person. 

 

*

 

The evening shift was definitely Satoru’s favourite. Well, if he got his way, he wouldn’t work at all but he couldn’t afford that without his parents backing him up. There were too many conditions in that option though. It was the path he wouldn’t take for any reason. 

\- What do you mean you don’t serve alcohol?! a man slurred in his face, reminding him of the only downside of an evening shift. 

Why was it so easy to forget that café wasn’t the same as a restaurant? A vein throbbed in his temple and he straightened his back. 

\- Higuchi-san! he called. - This gentleman would like sake with his Danish pastry. 

He didn’t fancy himself as someone who lost his temper easily. There was always some way around a fight if he looked hard enough. In fact, he could count with one hand the times he’d blown his top in his entire life. Including the deal with the phone earlier. 

That guy. He knew his type. He’d been the type. Ishida Yamato, he was a person who got everything too easily. People doted on him because of his girly face and he took it all for granted. When something didn’t go as planned, it was all the harder to take. He didn’t really want to speculate too much but the blonde was exactly how he’d been in the phone. A cold child covered in honey. Not that rare in the circles he had grown up in. 

He wasn’t even angry anymore. 

\- Don’t mind the drunk, Satoru-kun, an evening regular told him with a sweet smile when he refilled her cup.  
\- I won’t, he promised and gave her his customer smile, laughing a little when she went on and called the man a jerk. 

Alcohol made people act like they were fools. It was pathetic. It was best to avoid those type of people. Before coming to Tokyo he didn’t have any experience with drunken people, other than what he’d seen in movies and TV-shows. A twelve-year-old Satoru would’ve said _It’s a working TV-trope._ And nothing more. Drunken people were dangerous. The limits of their behavior were blurred and in the worst case scenario, they hurt others without meaning to. To Satoru, it seemed like a bad excuse more than anything but it wasn’t his place to say. He was never going to get drunk, if it meant acting like the man Higuchi-san was throwing out at the moment. 

\- Would you like me to refill your cup, sir? he asked another regular on his way back to the counter. 

The man folded the evening paper and smiled warily at him. 

\- No, thank you. I need to be able to sleep later. 

 - Very well, sir. 

It was near closing time, half an hour more to go. He would go outside and take the folded signboard inside for the night in another twenty. The rest was basically wiping tables. 

The earlier incident with the band boys came to mind again and he felt the outline of the bills in his pocket briefly with his fingers. It wasn’t wrong to ask for a compensation. He just didn’t feel right to have it from the wrong person. Still… 

He’d had certain fantasies about Dead Day. After all, all the band members were underage. No, they were all around his age! He had imagined getting to know them and talking about music with them - well, fat chance now. First impressions were everything. 

He wondered, if the blonde vocalist was gay. He thought about the difficulties he had maybe faced, if he was. Yet it seemed like he took it plenty lightly, considering the way he brought it up in a conversation with a complete stranger, like it was just one of those things. _You don’t have to be gay to fall in love with him._ What ominous words Ayakawa threw around. Maybe it was lucky Satoru didn’t have time to go falling in love with people here - let alone cute blonde singers with a beautiful voice. 

_I really wanted to talk to him more._

Satoru pushed the door open and ventured out to fetch the signboard. He noticed some young people on the other side of the road. They seemed to be having fun. Who wouldn’t though? They had their spring holiday. It shouldn’t take long to get his routines in check and maybe then he’d have more time for mingling. The two boys he’d met on that first night had seemed nice enough. He wasn't especially bad at making friends. 

\- Satoru-kun, I’ll check the register next. Would you mind asking Oikawa-san to leave? 

Higuchi Sanae was a sweet woman. Without her, Satoru wouldn’t even be alive now. The boy pushed his rag into the pocket of his apron and smiled. 

\- Will do, Sanae-san. 

Oikawa Amiko was still fixed in her seat. She was marking something in a thick magazine on the table in front of her, hurriedly sipping her coffee. It couldn’t be hot, since he’d poured it half an hour ago. 

\- Oikawa-san, thank you for visiting us today, he said and the woman sighed.  
\- Ah that’s right. You’re closing. I’m sorry, Satoru-kun. I’m such a bother.  
\- Not at all, ma’m. I hope to see you tomorrow as well.  
\- Oh, of course. 

Yeah, those two, what were they up to now anyway? Satoru hadn’t seen them after the first few weeks he’d bunked at the spiky-haired kid’s house. What were their names anyway? The one with badly bleached hair had a really plain name, like Tarou or Takaya, what was it anyway? The spiky-haired one had a weird Engrish name, though. Like clay, or grey or something. They had known nothing about him and yet they had treated him like a long-lost relative or something. 

It had been really warm. It was sad that he had lost contact with them. 

He changed and got out to the streets. Everyone out right now were all people he shouldn’t get close to and so he kept to himself and moved as fast as he could. He had experience with how deceiving looks could be. If he stopped to talk to someone, he would certainly be swindled, maybe even kidnapped and sold to sex slavery. _Better exaggerate than be sorry._

The air was nice though, cool and tasted good for once. More like dumplings and sweet wine than piss and toxicity. It was because of the restaurants around the area, he thought, and because it was in the middle of the week. 

The scent of a dumpling stand made him hungry. It was so unfair! All his life he hadn’t needed but ask and he could have anything - well, except an airplane - and here he was, drooling after hundred-yen-dumplings _he didn’t have enough money to buy._ The curse of having born privileged he supposed. Then again, hadn’t he been so high on his grand horse, he’d believed living alone without his father’s connections would be a piece of cake? 

He really had no right to lecture others. 

_Having a cellphone is not cool. It’s a prison only simpletons like you would welcome._

Now that he happened to think about it, could it be that the blonde was similar to Sam? 

The bright lights of the subway station were ever so welcome and for a moment, he didn’t have to think about anything other than boarding. In the three minutes from Roppongi to Ebisu, he could do nothing but. Rent, insurance, food, transportation. It could be, that he needed to get a job closer to his apartment. 

How was he supposed to manage that? 


	3. Creating an image for the masses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys being girls being boys. Macchan is a crybaby and Satoru sees dreams.

_  
\- Raoul! Raoul, where are you?_

_The boy grinned from ear to ear as the voice calling him came closer and then moved away again. He flipped over, leaning his back to the cemented foot of the pavilion. The wind that blew away the butterflies in the nearby Daisies felt good in his open hair. No one was going to find him here. The boy who was It had already looked here. The best way to stay hidden was to be absolutely certain where everyone was and then keeping discreetly on the move._

_There was a rustle of leaves and then a body rushed in through the bushes. The new-comer’s hair was fair in a dusty sort of way. When light hit it, it glittered like dust-sprinkles in the sun. He reached out to touch it but then the other already turned towards him._

_\- Shit those fuckers don’t let up. You stay down now Raoul._

_It was weird but enchanting, that Randall would use this sort of language. He usually spoke like Sam did. Then again, whenever he slipped his mother would let him have it and he would squeal like a pig. Raoul let the older kid push him down and laid his cheek on the cold dirt. He had a feeling they weren’t playing the usual hide-and-seek anymore, and his heart began pounding a little harder._

_He dared look up at the boy above him and he found himself mesmerised by the way light glittered in the profile of Randall’s green eyes. He had always felt their relation the sharpest when he compared their eye-color. It was Stevens green, like his mother used to say._

_Raoul’s older brother didn’t have them. He was often ridiculed by Randall’s mother for it. Whenever he witnessed his cousin’s unruly side Raoul felt oddly relieved and endlessly fascinated. He was different from everyone else in the family. He was also a lot more trustworthy than the others on his side of the family. Raoul’s father often spoke ill of his sister’s choice of a husband and the ill-bred offspring of that marriage but Raoul found Randall’s behaviour refreshing._

_Eventually the older boy looked down to him and grinned in a roguish way._

_\- Awesome place to hide you got here cousin. Thanks._  
_\- Can I get up now Randy? he asked breathlessly and the older boy laughed._  
_\- Yeah, get up._

_The pressure on his head eased up and Raoul got up, brushing at his vest and pants. It seemed to him the birthday boy wasn’t playing the game he’d announced himself and it was bothering him. Randall’s happy face was a little too tight around the edges. He poked at it like a boy would poke at a beehive. With a straw of grass._

_The lively green eyes focused on him again from their surroundings, then darted around again. His whole body seemed to be listening to any and all sounds._

_\- You don’t worry about it now Raoul._  
_\- Why?_  
_\- Cuz you ain’t in no danger Puppy. I’ll take care of you._

_There was something about this alien branch of the family. Sam always told him to be careful around Randall’s father, who was a big Italian man and had tattoos on his arms. It was that man’s fault they hardly ever saw Randall. Sam had tried explaining it to him, saying that their father was just trying to protect them by not getting involved more than what was absolutely necessary._

_\- Are you in danger? he asked and Randall laughed, then hushed him._  
_\- Better get back to the others now. They’re not here for you, so you run first okay buddy?_  
_\- What about you?_  
_\- I’m the faster runner not you. Okay, on my mark. Now go!_

_Raoul ran on command. The world turned into a blur of lines and all he could see was the field ahead of him and the other children who had all gathered there to celebrate Randall Martolotti, and the face of his mother when she noticed him and ran a little to meet him._

_\- What’s wrong, Satoru-chan?_

_Her voice made him cry. He managed to sob something about Randall telling him to run and for some reason he turned his head right then to see aunt Elizabeth coming towards them with her face sickly pale under the heavy make-up. In her hand was a phone._

_\- I’m sorry, Yuiko, but have you seen my Randy anywhere?_

That’s when he woke up.

Satoru rubbed his temples and breathed out slowly. For a few minutes more he tried rationalising his dream-patterns. It wasn’t that he always dreamed about his cousin. He didn’t really dream all that much in the first place. When he did, it started at the party, then stretched somewhere completely different. His mind changed the people according to who he was around at the time, and so it was - no, it was actually really boring to dream, when one was Kira Satoru, or Raoul Stevens. 

He got up and walked over to his kitchen counter. His apartment was tiny. A little cave to hide all of his teenage stubbornness. He had rice. He stared at the stupid bag of rice and cursed, remembering that he wasn’t really supposed to cook anything before he picked out an insurance company and paid their fees. Should anything happen, he’d have to go back to America.

Well, wasn’t that just the most horrible thing that could happen?

So yes, his real name was Raoul S. Stevens. The S was actually for Satoru but his father didn’t want him to shove his Japanese inheritance into people’s faces. Considering the man himself had married a Japanese lawyer, he was actually just full of shit, wasn’t he? His mother had only called him Raoul when she was very angry about something. Sam had only called him Raoul when their father was around. The older Stevens heir had known how important his name was to him. Kira was his mother’s maiden name, one which she had rashly abandoned when she had married the misogynistic bastard. It seemed fitting he would be the one to take the name back. 

Satoru opened his curtains as he waited for his rise to cook. The day seemed clear enough, ignoring the few clouds that promised rain by the end of the week. 

\- It’s Wednesday. You’re not allowed to rain yet.

Was what he told the clouds. They probably didn’t hear him through the glass and a few hundred miles of air currents. The moment he turned his back he heard them. The first drops against his window.

Thirty minutes later Satoru ate a bowl of rice, sprinkled with dried garlic. The taste was decent enough. When he pushed the empty bowl away from him and pretended the amount was enough, he heard a brief clattering noise coming from the door, followed by a whoosh of paper. The mailman had brought him something! Him! He never got anything apart from pizza adds and door-to-door salesmen. He hated both. They made him remember that his budget for anything he didn’t need and most things he might’ve needed, was zero.

His feet took him to the door and he felt wild relief and pure joy seeing the logo of his chosen school in the corner of the big envelope that lay on the carpet. _I’ll hate everyone if this is a joke,_ he decided to himself and attacked the poor yellow thing like a savage beast, thirsting for the confirmed information. The man who had checked his test paper immediately after he had given him the thumbs up but…

His eyes skimmed the paper. _Blah blah blah have been accepted to attend to Roppongi High school starting from blah blah taking account any financial problems blah blah blah scholarship program blah blah school uniform included blah blah blah have taken account your recently changed name._ etc.

\- Awesome! he said out loud and his knees gave out from under him. 

It had better not be a joke. There was a mention about a special needs program initiated by the student body. He hated to say he was in financial need but it was the truth wasn’t it? The rest of the papers included in the envelope had to do with curriculum and the Entrance Ceremony schedule. Everything seemed to outline the fact that he was going to be able to attend school, and he could basically do it for free, at least until next year. As the first emotional thunderstorm passed, Satoru scooted to the side so he could lean on a wall. Paper forgotten on the floor, he hid his face in his knees. Celebrating seemed awfully vain of him. In some way he felt guilty now for having lied about his name and family situation to get his chosen name on the papers instead of his actual name. Here he was basically abandoning thirteen years of his life and shoving all the privilege he was used to back in his father’s face. With an exclamation mark.

The thing was, at fourteen, Satoru fancied boys. Everything building up to this, even that stupid haunting birthday party pointed that he had fancied boys from the start. He knew the argument could be undermined by him never really interacting with girls up front, if you didn’t count the first years of elementary school, but he found other boys endlessly fascinating and beautiful. He had run away from home after a brutal clash with his father about this very subject. How could the man go and say _I don’t have a gay son_ as easily as declaring _the sky is blue_?

It wasn’t as if it was his decision to make.

Satoru wouldn’t even complain if he got with a girl in the future as long as he loved her. That way he wouldn’t have to make a painful face whenever he thought about this. If that ever happened he still wouldn’t go home, though. His father could go suck a fuck for all he cared. Despite what had happened with Sam, they were supposed to be a family. They were supposed to support and love each other no matter what. If his father couldn’t do that, why would Satoru waste his feelings either?

Why did it have to hurt so much?

 

His brooding was interrupted another half an hour later by his alarm clock, reminding him he needed to go to work. School had already cut enough of his working time recently and it would take even more once when it would actually begin. He needed to get as many hours in as possible. The Higuchis were great but they couldn’t afford to pay him for nothing. They weren’t supposed to pay him for nothing.

He visited the bathroom to brush his teeth as he’d forgotten to do so before he ate and wash his face. His hair was still fine enough. It tickled at his neck but it didn’t grease fast. It was as if even his genes were holding back his water bill. This one thing he couldn’t complain about.

Now then, positive thoughts, positive! He brushed the top of the guitar case with his fingers when he passed it on his way out. 

\- Bye then, Ganesa.

 

Seemed like the rain before had only been a promise of the rains to come. As Satoru had hoped, it didn’t rain at all when he ran to the subway station. At some point he even hallucinated rays of sunlight. He passed the ticket machine and breathed out in relief when the train came a moment later. He made a note to himself to trust in the alarm clock. He needed to change his habit of leaving at the last possible minute. He slumped onto a bench even though he would only be on for three minutes. He would just have to get up if he saw any old people, nothing big. 

He didn’t see any old people but he did hear when someone with kansai dialect called his name happily.

\- Kira- Hey, it’s Kira-kun!

Lifting his eyes he recognised the boy who came to him, dragging someone behind him by the sleeve. One of the band boys. The one whose name started with an A.

\- Tsukki, this is the guy who found ‘Mato’s cell the other day.

Now he saw the person behind the guy. They were a little shorter than A-kun, with milk-chocolate brown hair with darker roots down to his ears. What did they call it? The beach-hair? Lazy dye-job? None-the-less it looked cute on this person. A girl, though? Or a boy? 

\- Hi, he said weakly.

His memory was just bad when it came to names apparently. No wait, wasn’t it a river? Akawa? Akakawa? Ayakawa?

\- Hey, the new person, Tsukki, said with a smile. 

It was a boy. Satoru was ready to bet his lunch on it. Then again, he wouldn’t be eating lunch unless there were some pastries left from yesterday. Why were all the attractive people he met boys? Was it the Universe’s shrewd way of telling him he was and would always be gay? Not that he wasn’t aware he was asking the wrong question here. The right question was: Why were all the people he met conveniently attractive?

\- I understood Yammy was being a total dick yesterday. Sorry you had to see that.

 _Yummy._ Satoru’s lips twitched into grin, rivalling the one shot in his direction. Why did the nickname fit the blonde so well? He’d been anything but eatable. Toxic even.

\- Don’t worry about it, he said sincerely.

He wasn’t scared of mean words.

\- Tsukki is a guitarist too, Ayakawa continued. - Ah! I forgot! Kira-kun, this is my cousin, Asuko.

Aside from the context, Satoru just remembered the guy’s full name was Ayakawa Matsuko. It was like his brain was short-fusing. He’d summed the names of the band together just fine yesterday. What was it with him and solitary names? Also, Yamato, Yeriko, Matsuko, Asuko. And then Seiko, the guy he hadn’t met. Why did they all have such misleading names?

They had to be stage-names. Had to.

\- Oh, so you’re a guitarist then? Are you any good?  
\- Moderately, he answered, then got up.

They had arrived at Roppongi.

 

All three of them got out and the cousins followed him outside. Ayakawa said they were going shopping for colours, whatever that meant. It seemed to be exciting, though so he smiled and nodded. _Always smile and nod when you don’t know what they’re talking about. It works 50 percent of the time._ This was something the king of awkward situations had told him. He really missed his roommate from the boarding school.

\- Looks like it’s gonna be showers today, Asuko - What was his last name honestly? - said. - Stay dry, Kira-kun!  
\- I’ll try my best, thanks.

They snickered at his words and he only had a little time to ponder if he’d gone and said something funny. If he stayed and talked he would be late for work and he couldn’t do that.

\- Sorry but I’ll go this way, he excused himself.  
\- Don’t take it so seriously! Asuko - san? - called after him.  
\- Tsukki, he’s probably going to work. He didn’t get mad.

Satoru thought he really liked being called Kira-kun. He also liked getting to know more people with the same interests as him. Maybe he could talk with them longer some other time. He really hoped so.

He hadn’t screwed up the first impressions thing this time.

 

*

 

Matsuko was prancing around him like an over-sized puppy, probably expecting him to say something about his new friend. Which was just ridiculous considering they were both teenagers now. They were supposed to be a bit more adult than that. After a good five minutes of walk he finally gave up.

\- He seems fun, he said and the flood of words that followed was unbelievable.

All Asuko needed to interpret from it was that Matsuko really liked the kid, they went to the same school and that his puppy wanted Yamato to be friends with Kira too. Seriously. _Yamato._ Asuko took a leaf from the quiet new boy’s book and just smiled, shaking his head, at times up and down and at times from side to side. The talk continued until they reached Yamato’s - and Yeriko’s - building and Asuko let Matsuko talk to the man in the cubicle. He called their friend for them. When his cousin returned he gave him a stern look.

\- Seriously tho, Macchan. Don’t go forcing Yammy to mingle.  
\- I’m not. I’ve just this feeling that he _likes_ Kira.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. It wasn’t enough Matsuko saved every day for him, he had to play the day-saver for everyone else too. It was as annoying as it was adorable. Efficient too. Yamato, who from the beginning had needed a super-warm guy like Yagami Taiki - demons eat that guy’s soul if he had one - to break the ice between him and others, was melted wax when Matsuko really put effort in warming him up. Even their sociopathic bandleader was led on by the nose.

Because he knew his cousin. Matsuko wasn’t stupid or simple. No, he was definitely simple but he wasn’t as stupid or fixed as he sometimes played it out. He was a deeply analytical, easily hurt, super gluttonous puppy. 

\- I admit they have similarities, he said. - But you need to remember that sometimes Yamato gets hurt just because he can. He’s not good for other people. Not like this.  
\- Tsukki, you didn’t-  
\- He’s here.  
\- See them together. Hiya ‘Mato!

Asuko knew he was being a tad unfair, as he looked at the vocalist walk up to them from the elevators. Yamato made eye-contact with him, then looked away and looked so damn miserable Asuko’s heart went out to him. This was how Yamato pulled people at strings. Easy like breathing. He could only wish he had an ounce of the blonde’s charm. Maybe then…

His eyes looked behind the guy and didn’t see the added plus one. Good. It was better this way.

\- Let’s go, Yamato only said when he reached them and they fell easily in step with him.

 

Ikebukuro was as busy as it always was. Yamato didn’t hesitate to go straight towards the expensive stores the cousins usually avoided even looking at, Matsuko because of the smell and Asuko because he wasn't made of money. Yet, Yamato made their initial rejection melt just by being there. He knew what he wanted and where to get it and didn’t have to pretend to have the money. By the time they entered the Matsumoto Kiyoshi in Sunshine City, Asuko found himself thinking how easy everything would be, if the band was only them three. They got along and aside from Matsuko’s cute crush they had nothing between them to fuck up the chemistry. The oldest two of the band complimented each other, like a mom and dad and with no animosity towards Sei, they were a two-in-one deal. 

Yeriko was the sore finger. The hurting tooth that affected the whole body. Sei was the patch that made it seem like the infection was under control. He was the white blood cells that fought to keep up the morals and humanity in the band. The truth was, their band was impossible from the start. That’s what Asuko felt. Yet they were so good, so brilliant. Yeriko had turned their childishness into something that sold instead of incapacitated. He was just too good. Too good.

Too gorgeous. Heart-breaker. Asshole.

\- Come on, they don't have what I'm looking for, the blonde said coming back from whatever isle he'd been on.  
\- I'll have you know right now, he told him, - I won't be able to buy your stuff.  
\- You shouldn't either, was the downright cheeky answer he got. - My products are for my hair. 

Next, they dived into the world of CosmeKitchen and Asuko was in heaven, just browsing the makeup isles while Matsuko followed Yamato like a lost puppy. The thing was, he still couldn't see hair dyes anywhere. So he marched up to the blond and poked at his chest as rudely as possible.

\- If I don’t go with pink now I’ll never get to fuck the Great and Awesome again, he announced and Yamato snorted.

They shared a look that ended in a small twitch on the blonde’s lips. He was trying really hard not to smile. Yeah. Yamato might not agree with him in most of the stuff when it came to Yeriko but they had both experienced just what an amazing fuck-face he was. They also agreed the Nakano offspring was God’s gift for human eyes. And other parts.

Matsuko made a disgusted sound at their bro-moment and pointed pointedly - _pointedly pointed_ \- at a green coloured bottle next to him.

\- I want that colour, he spat out.  
\- Are you serious?  
\- It’s fine isn’t it? Better than the river of drool behind you.

It wasn’t as rare as one might think, that his cousin let out this intelligent side. Matsuko was naturally honest and straightforward and now that he’d got over the fact Asuko dated someone he didn’t particularly like, he was back to defending his virtue. He was like his very own, private CIA personified. The baby didn’t want him to date someone else if he couldn’t get over his obsession with Yeriko. Now that he was dating someone else, he didn’t want him to be verbal about his stupid crush on the sexy drummer. He rather he just pretend he was over the guy. 

To Asuko being open about his feelings was just him being honest. It wasn’t as if Yoshino didn’t know about anything. It wasn’t as if Yeriko didn’t know about everything. It wasn’t as if he actually hated Yamato for having Yeriko tightly around his little finger. He was straying from the subject.

The green Matsuko was pointing at was actually cool, now that he thought about it. Not cool, as in cold, but as in dark. It had a natural, forest-ish kind of feeling. However, there was no saying he could find a dye just like that.

\- Orimoto, come and see this, Yamato’s voice came a little further down the wall.

Asuko flipped his cousin the bird and a grin.

\- It’s sexy. Do it!

He reached Yamato and couldn't help but grin so hard his cheeks started aching in seconds.

\- He wants green. Green!  
\- What a surprise, the vocalist humphed. - Anyway. I never bought you anything for your birthday.  
\- Ooh, what's this? You're suddenly spending like crazy.  
\- None of your business, was his loving answer. - If Matsuko wants to go green, we’re going by my hairdresser’s. I’m slightly out of my depth here.  
\- You shouldn't go around admitting these things, Asuko groaned. - But I trust you. As long as it's not too expensive.  
\- Alright, Yamato agreed. - Last time I was here, I thought you should buy this product. You don't exactly have the same texture to your hair as most Asians, so…  
\- Okay.  
\- Okay?  
\- I trust you. You have weird hair too.  
\- I’m telling you, Yamato murmured, sounding miserable again. - You guys trust me too much. 

The trip to Ebisu went by surprisingly fast. With Matsuko holding up the conversation with his impeccable sense of what to say and when, it seemed even the stress on Yamato's shoulders was melting away. Asuko was a little sorry for having put it there but his friend needed to trust himself more. He had dyed hair before. He took care of his own weird hair daily. He had done amazing job with Yeriko’s subtle style change. Experimenting would only make him better, Asuko felt. His hands were absolutely magical. 

More importantly, as they walked up the streets towards Daikanyama Asuko started discreetly looking around himself. The plus-side of befriending someone who obsessed with his hair, was getting to go with him to Éclat. There wasn’t a celebrity he followed in Tokyo who didn't use Éclat as their hairdresser. He had seen some of them here before too. A little bell chimed to announce their arrival and almost immediately someone appeared in front of them. Matsuko had forgotten to talk, causing Asuko also to just watch as Yamato spoke with the woman for quite some time, before she called someone else to help the boy. Asuko admired that about Yamato. The nonchalance he showed when he was being a difficult customer. The next person Asuko recognised as Yamato's regular hairdresser. Again, Yamato conversed with him for a long time. Something about dyes and textures and costs that had two zeros too many. 

\- I'll just mix them myself, Yamato was saying with confidence he hadn't shown in the previous shop. 

The blonde showed his credit card again, making him grind his teeth. Birthday present or not, he hated other people spending on him just because he didn't have enough. 

\- Guys, the blonde called them in. - Come and see. I’m choosing the colours now.  
\- Yammy-chan, we seriously can't afford professional products. There has to be cheaper ones.  
\- I know, I just don't want to go wrong with this. Just this once, okay?  
\- I really- he started his protest, but Yamato made a face and showed him then. 

The card he'd been using all day had Yeriko’s name on it. 

\- It’s for the band, alright? Yamato said reluctantly. - He's the worst, I swear. He never said it was a gift or anything. It's definitely not a loan either, since he's forcing his way here. Again.

There was nothing Asuko could say to that. Choosing the colours was suddenly a job instead of good fun. For the next few moments they concentrated on comparing reds to pinks and oranges and and yellows and greens and blues. It had been years and still Asuko felt queasy whenever Yeriko went out on a leg to buy him something expensive. It wasn’t that he felt like he didn’t deserve it, he just felt like crap over Yeriko’s way of compensating him for his friendship. It was something the older boy once said, when he still felt like a decent person. _Money is all I’m good for really._ It had been a joke and it was very obvious now that he didn’t think so anymore. Yet Asuko couldn’t forget that vulnerable moment, when Yeriko had been just an older boy with an equally broken past, not a saviour with an invincible armor. An hour later they walked out of the building with their own personal little paper bags. 

He paused and looked at himself in a random shop window. He was short and though he wasn’t scrawny anymore, he wasn’t gaining weight the way boys his age were. He wasn’t getting taller either like Yamato and even Matsuko who was younger. His hair was really horrible too, wasn’t it? He touched it, feeling a certain sadness over losing this sort of naturalish hair. When he’d dyed it, it had been the same colour as his dad’s had been.

Matsuko came back for him and took his hand.

\- ‘Mato promised to cook us something. I want teriyaki beef.  
\- Alright, he just said and the sad feelings melted into a smile on his face. - Let’s go eat Teriyaki Beef a la Yammy.  
\- Yup!

Another thing about Matsuko was how he always knew when to pretend he was smaller of them two. There was no one as in tune with his complexes as his cousin. It was disturbing in the way that made him think he wouldn’t survive in life without Matsuko. It was scary close to co-dependence. If only possible, he wanted to be co-dependent on someone else. His baby-cousin was too sweet to be tied to someone like him.

 

Yamato’s salon-look was definitely meant to scare little babies like Asuko. He transformed from a blooming fashionist to an art-student, complete with a huge white t-shirt that had blue and red stains on it and a headband that had little footballs on it. 

\- At least show off your waist with a belt, he complained as the blonde seated him in a three-footed bench in his spacious bathroom, and tied a cloak around him.  
\- What’s my waist got to do with you? was his sassy answer but when Yamato appeared next, mixing up his hair colour in a small bowl, he was wearing a belt.

Asuko wanted to hug him for being so obedient but this boy was from now on in charge of his hair. He was taking no risks. If Yamato had started showing his temper again he was definitely taking no risks. He closed his eyes and let his best friend do his thing. This was something Yamato was really good at. For three whole years he’d been the only one Asuko let close to his hair with scissors or dye. Sitting in front of him felt like sitting at a barber’s. Asuko loved having his haird tampered with. It felt so good he found himself nodding off to the tune of Yamato’s hands.

He woke up to his hair being washed. When he asked, Yamato shrugged and said he’d been out maybe an hour or so.

\- These cookies are Good! Hey ‘Mato, can I have more?  
\- No.  
\- Meanie!

Matsuko came to the bathroom with a see-through plastic bag around his head. His hair reminded Asuko of Ursula from the Little mermaid. It was a disgusting blob of black stuff. Asuko kicked himself mentally for not being there to hold the kid’s hand. It was his cousin’s first time having his hair dyed and no matter what kind of bravado he sported, Asuko knew the boy from inside out. 

He forgave himself relatively quickly, considering how Matsuko didn’t seem to have noticed his lapse in familial guidance. He was stuffing his mouth with food again. It was as if this was the permanent feature he’d adopted after joining their band. It was fine, Asuko thought. Better food than irresponsible sex.

Or drugs.

Asuko congratulated himself for finally having turned into a hypocrite. He closed his eyes and made himself comfortable under the waterflow Yamato subjected his hair to. All in all the blonde failed in getting shampoo in his eyes and ears. He absolutely failed all the fails Asuko had been ready to forgive him. Matsuko sat on the floor as Yamato went from washing the conditioner out of Asuko’s hair to drying the wet mess with a hair-dryer. The look in his eyes was wonderful. Asuko wanted to know what was it that had him make an expression like that.

\- How much longer? Yamato asked and Matsuko looked at an alarm clock in his hands.

Asuko just now noticed he was holding one. It was an old western type, the kind that could wake up the dead. He doubted Yamato ever used it for that purpose. Or at all.

\- Ten minutes.  
\- Okay.

Yamato magically produced scissors from nowhere. He positioned Asuko’s head with such a firm touch the guitarist was scared to move even an inch. It seemed as if he’d just start cutting but he paused just before. 

\- I’ll just layer it a bit at the top and thin it out at the bottom. The color is lighter there, because I didn’t think to bleach your hair first.  
\- It looks nice tho, Matsuko put in.  
\- Sorry, Yamato continued. - The color is bright enough. Must be your natural light pigment.

Asuko found he still had absolute trust in his fellow guitarist. It was a deeply rooted belief in him that the blonde wouldn’t screw up his hair. Not because of the band but because of him as a person. He just hummed and let the scissors cut. He wished he could see the vocalist’s face as he knew he was most likely biting his tongue and licking his lips nervously. His idle thoughts had him wondering what happened to the mirror that Yeriko’s bathroom had and Yamato’s didn’t.

\- It’s time, Matsuko said then but Yamato shrugged him off.  
\- Your hair won’t fall off if it stays on a bit longer. If anything the color will be better.

He took his time finishing up Asuko’s hair and it made the cousins both happy and nervous. Asuko looked at the black mess on Matsuko’s head and wondered if it was really okay to leave it for so long. Then Yamato promptly unfastened the cloak and shook it free from any hair.

\- Alright, get out. Ayakawa, sit down.  
\- Yessir! the youngest boy shouted and they changed places.

Asuko left Matsuko alone with Yamato and rushed to see the damage done to his bob cut.

_Well._

It wasn’t a bob-cut anymore. It was a lot more boyish this way and he was a little cranky about it. He’d liked the androgynous look. Then again, the more he looked, the more he liked. The colour was the first to jump in. It was surprisingly bright. He hadn’t expected it to be after Yamato said he hadn’t bleached him before. It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. He couldn’t stop shaking and flipping his hair. It felt so funny. It looked awesome. He pushed his hand to his pocket and took out the yellow pins he’d taken off before the dye-job. They highlighted his pink hair like they were always meant to sit in this type of hair. 

He smiled at his reflexion and when he was at it, tried other expressions too.

\- It’s awful, he shouted towards the bathroom. - I hate it!  
\- You’re welcome! came his answer and he found himself laughing, drawn back to the mirror like a kitten.

Hair dryer was turned on again and he happened to think he was missing out on Matsuko’s transformation. That was what finally drew him away from the damn mirror and back to the social atmosphere in the bathroom. The two didn’t pay him much attention and that way he got to witness the nervousness on Matsuko’s face. It was in the way he squeezed his eyes shut at times and the way he forced his hands to stay still on his lap.

Asuko slipped in front of him and took his hands into his.

\- Scared already? he teased and the kid opened his eyes to look at him.  
\- Nope. Just…  
\- I get it, Asuko reassured him and brought one of his hands to his hair. - Play with that.

Matsuko did. He ruffled his hair a bit shyly, then softly stroked it with an amazed look in his eyes. He mouthed: _It’s soft!_ and Asuko wanted to laugh at his surprise. Of course it was soft. Yamato’s hair-care products were a lot more expensive than his. The blonde also didn’t buy crappy stuff, expensive or not. 

Then he really looked at what was going on in his cousin’s head and his mouth fell open. He was turning from a hikikomori into an eatable person. The green reflected in his tea-colored eyes, creating an illusion that he actually had green eyes. His complexion was perfect for the shade too. Asuko would’ve never thought he would think of green hair as a _natural_ color but if there was such a thing, this was the closest to it. And the kid had picked out the color all on his own.

His eyes happened to meet with Yamato’s and the blonde had a pleased little smirk on his face. He probably didn’t even realise it himself. 

\- Hey Tsukki, is it okay? Matsuko was giving him the deer-eyes.  
\- Nope, he said. - It’s absolutely horrible. You better let him eat those cookies, Yammy-chan. You’ve absolutely ruined my Macchan.

Yamato chuckled quietly but nodded then.

\- You’re going to have to hold girls back when he goes to school, Orimoto.  
\- What girls? Asuko laughed. - It’s the boys I’m more worried about.  
\- O-oi. Are you serious or bullying me?

Poor Matsuko was trembling already. Asuko gathered his cousin in a hug and enjoyed the cool air flow from the dryer.

\- You’re gorgeous, Macchan. Absolutely gorgeous.

And then they had a little crying baby in their hands. Asuko made sure to drive Yamato out of the room with his eyes and then proceeded to bill and coo his younger cousin back together. There was less kissing and more snuggling than when he did it to Yamato or his girlfriend but they were now pretty little birds and they certainly had nothing to cry about. 

\- Right?  
\- Right… Sorry.  
\- Don’t worry about it. I love a hugfull of crying Macchan every once in a while.

 

In the kitchen Yamato was preparing dinner and only gave them a glance when they came in. Asuko witnessed the most pathetic puppy eyes he had ever seen on anyone, in the face of his flesh and blood. The blonde snorted.

\- What are you staring at, stupid? The rest of them are on the table, go wild.  
\- I love you!  
\- Well I don’t love you, Yamato said to the back that nearly tripped over in his hurry.

 _Yes, you do._ Asuko smiled to his frilly sleeves. _You all do._

Asuko had been worried to death over letting Matsuko enter the band in the beginning. Sure he was the best with the bass - a lot better than Yamato at least - but a lot of shit had been going on back then. He’d been jealously guarding the kid’s innocence, needing to keep him all to himself. Then Sei talked to him, saying lots of things that made him feel like an ass and here they were. A band of fools, flocking together.

For better or worse.

\- He’s a damn dove, shit, he said walking over to Yamato and leaning against him. - And I’m a sparrow.

Yamato hummed, then touched his hair a bit awkwardly.

\- No. Aren’t you a robin, actually?

Asuko glared at him but liked the comparison all the same. Little red-breast robins were so cute.

\- Well, you’re a freaking swan.  
\- I’m not a swan, Yamato protested. - Pick something smaller. I don’t want to feel huge next to you guys.  
\- Then a nightingale.

Yamato started a mock fight at that, pushing him lightly. He laughed and pushed right back. They continued until they were both laughing. 

\- Hey, I’m really going to eat them all! Matsuko interrupted them from the table and they exchanged looks.  
\- No shit? Yamato chuckled. - I think that one’s a finch, actually. Sings but never shows himself.

The green-haired bassist had a coughing fit, ending whatever debate they might’ve made up next. It sounded bad enough that Yamato poured him a glass of spring water and took it to him personally. Asuko found himself grinning at them. _See? You do love him._

When the offending cookie had found its way down the right pipe and Matsuko had somewhat calmed down, he pointed an accusing finger at Yamato. 

\- I heard you just now! he claimed and Yamato frowned a little.  
\- And?  
\- And, you did not just say that!  
\- I’m so not in the boat anymore.

 _Wait for it,_ Asuko thought to himself and took out his cellphone. He decided not to take part in the conversation lest he got dropped into the same file of stupid people as his cousin. 

\- You know some people call them twinks right? As in TWINKS, in English.

He got up and went back to the kitchen side of the counter, and mailed Yeriko.

_macchan’s a cucumber now lol ♥_

\- I always wonder why you give him updates all the time, Yamato commented with a raised brow a moment later, when he was writing his third text. 

Yeriko was obviously bored out of his wits. He usually never went out of his way to answer texts from him. Asuko smiled at the blonde vocalist as he pulled the meat out of the fridge and started preparing it, and put away the phone. It was a bit sad considering the rare occasion but Yeriko could handle boredom just fine.

Matsuko stalked in a moment later looking thoroughly embarrassed. It was his fault for making rude jokes in a very gay company so Asuko didn’t deliver him any sympathy until after Yamato chose to forgive him.

It happened fairly soon anyway.

 

*

 

_Sender: Nakano Yeriko_  
_Subject: Save me, Sei-chan!_  
_Message:_  
_So my mom is making dinner today._  
_It’s got something to do with their anniversary._  
_Can I bunk over at your house?_

The Haruno household was fairly quiet today, considering only one of Sei’s four sisters was around. The youngest child was ironing out his school uniform when the annoying message came. He didn’t know when he had started preferring to be alone as opposed to the flocking together that happened with the other four of the band. Perhaps he had never really been into that sort of stuff. Stupid people tended to annoy him and though the guys were all intelligent in their own way, the sheer idiotism that bloomed when they were together was too much for him. Sometimes he had to wonder why he was still with them.

Most likely because Yeriko still was. 

Despite being the fifth most annoying person he knew, that guy was basically the only friend he’d managed to make in his sixteen years long career of living. He’d also been accepted by that person when everything had seemed to go wrong and shit had kept piling up like no tomorrow. Sei had a habit of analyzing everything he did and so he had to wonder just what was it that had pulled him to Yeriko a long time ago.

Probably the same thing that pulled everyone to Yeriko. He was egoistic, selfish and stupid where it counted. He walked with his head in the clouds and that hadn’t changed since the piano academy. His only redeeming quality was that while he strut ahead ruining everything and everyone, he genuinely cared about the few people he let close to him. He didn’t always realise he did but Sei had known him for years. He’d had a long time to get acquainted with his behavior patterns.

Sei was generally unforgiving by nature. He respected people’s choices and only set out to correct them when he felt like they were in serious trouble because of their personalities or when he sensed a trauma was about to make them act in a harmful way towards themselves or others. He supposed it meant he also cared a lot more than he thought and could accept that. He was a people watcher and being around such mentally fragile bunch of stubborn people was bound to affect him as well. 

Getting back to the subject at hand he thought about the message and counted his spoons. Did he have enough spoons to have Yeriko in his life for the evening? The answer was no, he didn’t. He never had enough spoons to deal with his friend. He set aside the iron and aired out the clothes, letting the idiot wait. 

It wasn’t that he hated wearing trousers, he thought as he was hanging the uniform back in the closet. Wearing skirts had everything to do with the statement he wanted to make, plus cosplaying made him feel like he had more spoons when going out. He had skirts for general use too. Why? _Because he liked them._ It was the same as when his mother wanted a giant swimming pool in the backyard when his family bought this house. Or the indoor garden they had founded in the city. Or the aquarium they bought last year to prevent one of the main attractions of the Skytree from closing. Jun loved her penguins after all.

His family didn’t mind him wearing skirts. They treated him like one of the daughters in the house and even if that in itself was quite annoying, he could deal with it. He wore trousers when his dad needed to have his heir around in social events but otherwise everyone let him be.

 _Now then._ He hung his tie on the hanger and looked at the uniform skeptically. Even caring for it didn’t help him get over his initial disgust over what it represented.

_Recipient: Nakano Yeriko_  
_Subject: Drop the -chan._  
_Message:_  
_If you must._

 

\- Mom! Obaka-san’s coming over! Help me air the futon?


	4. Issues upon issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamato starts breaking at the seams, Asuko pays the price and Yeriko just might get a clue. Underage drug abuse.

Nine days until the beginning of high school. Morning light peeked through the heavy curtains, teasing a light frown onto an unmoving face. For a few moments more the body of the teenager lay like a corpse, then blue eyes opened, slowly moving from messy bed sheets to the clock on top of bed-side drawer. 10:04.

The disappointment Yamato felt was thick enough to cut with a knife. He had prayed so hard, harder than ever after turning the lights off for the night. Because there was a morning and he was there to witness it proved to him, that the benevolent God that loved all His creations had no love for him.

Yamato perhaps wasn’t the most devout Christian but… He believed in stuff. He had read the Bible from beginning to end in his mother’s warm arms and could remember all the important parts of it. He couldn’t help it. He’d tried saying he didn’t believe in God but when the worst came to pass he’d found himself praying hard enough to rip his heart right out. He supposed it was too much for him to ask. The prodigal son was allowed to go back home in the Bible, because of his father’s love and forgiveness. Yamato’s pride had him asking why that man and not him? He knew the answer, though. His mother provided him with one. God did not love boys who had sexual intercourse with other boys, or men, forced or not.

Lying half-awake on the slightly cool floor, Yamato slowly measured the edge of the Persian carpet with his eyes. His body felt heavy and the apartment was silent. The way her eyes had changed was still burned in his retinas. All the motherly love had been wiped away so easily by one man’s insane need to own and another’s need to conquer. Her hateful inferno still rained on him all the way from Odaiba.

_You should’ve killed yourself before allowing it to happen! You - you of all people! - should’ve been strong enough!_

Until that moment strength had meant living through hardship but it was this way of thinking that justified weakness and enabled overpopulation. Long ago, before high religion stepped in and humans were simply animals among other species, weakness killed the unworthy ones and Mother Nature took back the bodies with her ever loving grace.

Speculating over what he should’ve done was waste of time. No matter what people thought of him and how badly he wanted to he wasn’t strong enough to kill himself now.

Every time he thought of his mother he would immediately think of Taiki-san. Yamato had after a long time of thinking come to a conclusion that he had a habit of ruining the people he loved. His volition or not, he was like all the misfortune in the world personified. For someone like him it was better not to get close to anyone unless he wished them harm. However, everything he’d achieved in life, his abilities, his fortune and moderate fame seemed to all be a bait to lure stupid people to their fall. Yamato couldn’t help but feel the sting whenever he heard about another someone who ruined themself for him. He refused to take blame for those incidents though. He couldn’t carry the weight of the world. His personal issues were heavy enough.

It wasn’t that he actually wanted to die, perhaps. He simply wanted to return to that point in his childhood when men weren’t looking at him that way. When he lived with just his dad and they counted their yens to the very last one each month to survive the recession. It hadn’t been his dad’s fault he’d been laid off his job, and Yamato had hidden things like his feet outgrowing his shoes to make the down-time a little easier for the man. There was sound irony in how the times when he silently cried himself to sleep because his feet hurt were the happiest in his life.

If he went and bought himself too small shoes now to have that nostalgic feeling, it would only be self-gratification, not happiness. Yamato brought his knees towards his chest and turned his lithe body on top of them. Hair fell on his face and for a moment he just breathed. His blood pressure made the whole room spin even after he closed his eyes. He only got up after the feverish feeling passed.

Trying out Asuko’s new hobby yesterday had been a good decision. He’d visited the dorm house for the first time in months. Nothing had changed. It was still like a ghetto, cramped into one building. The doors that had their locks broken still weren’t fixed and the elevator still jumped a little in between the first and the second floor. It still smelled bad. It was an area of controlled chaos. Yamato liked it.

Asuko preferred using something he called a water pipe. It was small and modern and cute, in a pipish way. A little too much so for Yamato’s taste. Asuko’s girlfriend had rolled him a joint and he’d been grateful about it, though inhaling burned his throat a bit. The whole experience had seemed unreal once it kicked in. No, it was more as if his reality had been shifted to another dimension that looked like this one but really wasn’t. Everything had felt more full, more satisfying, more _detailed_. It was as if he was a character in a psychedelic novel or an artistic French movie. The laws of time had ceased to exist. Asuko’s fingers running along his skin had made him ache. The colours in that cramped but tastefully decorated dorm room had made him cry. He had simply felt so happy to be alive. For a short while.

 

In the kitchen he found a note saying:

_You looked so tired I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Don’t catch a cold sleeping on the floor! Should have the weekend off. Let’s go buy all the school stuff then, okay? Did I tell you I’m proud you’re a high schooler now?_

_Dad._

\- Wake me up if you come home damnit, Yamato whispered feeling an echo of the drugs from the day before as he touched the hastily written paper.

The pen had broken it in couple of places. An edge bit into Yamato’s finger when he pulled his hand away and he hissed a curse, bringing the injured digit to his mouth.

He wasn’t that interested in high school or school what-so-ever but he wanted to make up for all the mess he had caused if only possible. If he graduated, his father would make a happy face again. Maybe then he could live on his own and his father could go back to the rest of the family without worries. At least the man had eaten the dumpling soup he had left in the fridge. It was a small blessing. Yamato was almost certain he hardly ate when at the office. He always returned home looking malnourished and grey.

It only took few hours for the usual anxiety to jump in. He tried watching TV, he baked cookies, he practised songs on his guitar and though he’d had a good feeling about it, he couldn’t get into it at all. The walls bent in to say hello and the air started feeling heavier and harder to swallow. As if he had been poisoned.

_Why didn’t he wake me up? Didn’t he want to see me?_

His breath hitched for the first time. It was like the beginning of a sneeze or a sob he subconsciously avoided letting out. The problem was drawing another breath right after. His chest felt paralysed and he panicked. He grabbed his phone and rushed to the door, only to find he couldn’t open it. There was hardly any strength in his hands. He knew he could just scream and help would come in one form or the other, yet he just let his body smack against the wooden surface and slide down onto the floor.

He gasped for air and then his breath hitched again, like a hiccup that didn’t let up.

_She’s going to be okay, Yamato. It’s best to let her rest as much as possible and not put any additional stress on her. That said, would you like to live with me the way we used to? I have rented an apartment in Roppongi for the two of us. You’ll love it, I promise._

It was only Yamato who wasn’t invited in their Odaiba apartment, after all. He was the stress factor that made his mother lose her mind. His existence made his little brother feel torn in his loyalties and so he couldn’t be allowed to have that life with the rest of the family. Because he was the crow of misfortune. He had to be stuck in this empty apartment where the walls were always hungry, always eating on him. His brain screamed: _You should’ve just thrown me out if you didn’t want me with you!_ If only his father had done that. He wouldn’t have to harbour this toxic hopeful waste inside him, getting hurt all over again.

 

\- This is a surprise, a familiar voice spoke in his ear and suddenly reality crashed back down on him.

He was holding the phone to his ear with a trembling hand, having called someone, anyone, the last person he’d called.

\- Yammy-chan hardly ever calls me on a day off.  
\- Save me, Orimoto, he gasped into the receiver.

There was a good twenty seconds of silence and for the life of him Yamato couldn’t understand the cause. He was dying, being crushed by the walls and this boy who claimed to be his best friend wasn’t responding to him.

\- Atsuki, Tsukki, _please_. I’m freaking out. I’m Drowning and the walls don’t let me breath.  
\- Sweetheart, you need to calm down and concentrate on breathing. You’re having a panic attack.

 _Panic attack._ Yamato’s brain could accept that. It certainly felt like he thought a panic attack might feel like.

\- Everything’s going to be okay, love. Just breathe in and out.  
\- I just told you! I can’t!  
\- No matter how hard it is, your brain needs oxygen. Breathe!

He was having spots in his vision and drew a shallow breaths to keep conscious. Asuko’s voice had a rare sort of command in it. The same tone as when he told Yamato to follow instructions yesterday. _You shouldn’t leave the room. Tell me if it gets too much. No matter what you do, Do Not Drive under the influence._

\- Get your ass over here, he sobbed brokenly. - I need you. It hurts.  
\- Breathe, babe. I’m already on my way. I’m not even going to hang up. I’m right here so talk to me. Do you have a paper bag around? Sounds like you’re over-breathing now.  
\- Which is it? he asked just a tad bit annoyed.

But Asuko was right. Of course he was right. And Yamato focused on his voice as he trailed into the kitchen, first on his knees and then on his feet. It was like he was breathing hard while there was no air to breathe. His heart was being loud and irregular. His lungs were crawling in on themselves. There. A paper bag.

\- People are staring at me. It’s because I’m talking to Yammy-chan. Looks like the rush-hour Japan is still not ready for teens who talk to their phone on the subway. How do you feel, pumpkin?  
\- Breathing into a paper bag…  
\- I didn’t catch that, honey but you’re doing so well. I can hear you’re talking to a paper bag. Oh!  
\- What?  
\- Somebody’s fondling my butt. I don’t have any money in my back pockets. They stopped now. What a pervert, seriously.

_How mature of you._

The whole concept of maturity seemed so utterly fake when talking about teenagers. Telling someone who was in the middle of going through puberty they acted mature for someone their age was horribly condescending. First, there was the question of subjectivity. Everyone’s opinions were different and figuring out if being called mature was a good thing or not was a severe cause of headache. Why was it that speaking in a certain way or acting in a certain way - a.k.a. knowing your place - was more _mature_ than someone who still had energy and positivity and _purity_? Even Yamato had people telling him he acted mature for someone his age but all he really did was keep his mouth shut. Being around a lot of people was bad for his mental state. He had opinions and his were rooted so deep he fought for them tooth and nail. It was just… Crowds made him uneasy. Took away his ability to say anything if he was alone.

However, if there was someone whom he’d force to bear the cross of that word, it would be Asuko.

\- Don’t go silent on me, sweetie. How do you feel?

Breathing was getting easier and his heart was slowing down. Even his thoughts had started making a point. He let the paper bag fall on his lap.

\- Like I just came out of a paper bag.  
\- That’s my Yammy. Hang on, there’s a ticket machine.

It was hard to remember a time he wasn’t so needy but he knew there had to have been a time when he’d been able to get through difficult times on his own. In elementary school he’d thought nothing of crowds. He’d been a team player. Even if middle school was different, and the band was different from a basketball team, he’d still been a team player. Up until...

To Yamato, being the way he was now was the worst possible humiliation.

\- Did you see if he’s home? his friend’s voice came back.

Asuko was talking about the egoistic bandleader who lived a floor up. Yamato frowned. There was no way he could ever show weakness to that guy. He knew too much as it was.

\- No. I don’t want him here.  
\- But he lives the closest to you.  
\- I don’t want him here, Orimoto!

Asuko had to know better. He was a victim too.

\- Just saying. He loves you so much he’d move the mountains for you.

Yes. Yeriko would move the mountains away from him and laugh at him when he tried supporting himself on nothing. Was that really love? The moment he would let himself depend on Yeriko, to lean on him - the moment when he would allow himself to think maybe he loved the older boy, he’d get thrown away like a useless glove. It all really came down to how much he put out.

His pride was a horrible thing.

The most important thing was to keep up the facade that nothing was wrong. He would hang onto any mask he could reach as long as he possibly could, and then some. That’s what he’d decided before Asuko presented to him another choice. Being someone who thought of promises as important, the other guitarist was always quick to deter curious eyes away from Yamato when his shell started cracking. He said easily things Yamato would’ve choked on, yet no matter what he said or did, Yamato never felt he was actually interested in him. Basically, he was safe. Someone who didn’t expect anything from Yamato.

Even that didn’t help his anxiety today, it seemed. No one cared about him. Not really. The empty walls mockingly reminded him even Asuko had his own agenda when befriending him. No one who knew him well would stick around him and defy his curse for nothing. Then again, hadn’t Yamato’s curse already ruined everything for Asuko? The moment he felt he couldn’t take the pressure anymore the doorbell chimed. Once. Twice.

 

Asuko’s arrival and his bright-colored hair made things click into place. The walls retreated back but they were watching, waiting until Yamato would be alone again.

\- Oh! Cookies! the other guitarist said and took one without asking.

Yamato slumped down into a kitchen chair. They were therapeutic cookies anyway, so he didn’t mind.

\- These are so good. Do you mind if I take some home with me?  
\- Go ahead, he said, gesturing towards the plate. - Take them all. I’ll just make new ones anyway.  
\- They weren’t for something important, were they?

He shook his head. What would he possibly make cookies for? It wasn’t as if he lived home anymore. The question made him think of Takeru and though he tried shaking that particular trigger off, his anxiety was back. How long was it since he’d seen his brother in person? Almost half-a-year, right?

\- You should go see him, Asuko said and Yamato blinked.  
\- Who?  
\- The kid, obviously. He adores you. I remember when Macchan was acting out just because I didn’t go home for a while.  
\- I really want to, he sighed and his heart felt hungry with all the empty space in it.

Asuko wrapped his arms around him and squeezed lightly. His breath smelled of butter and sugar. Behind that was a really pleasant light perfume he hadn’t smelled before.

\- You smell different, he commented quietly, lifting his left hand to touch the arms around him.  
\- I found this new shop, the pink-haired boy told him, equally quietly. - Their opium soap was surprisingly light.  
\- This is...opium? Yamato whispered to himself and breathed deep again.

The scent was pleasant, unlike all the other opium scented products he’d smelled before.

\- Yeah, it’s nice isn’t it?  
\- Yes.

The truth was he had always had sudden spells of anxiety, from as far as he could recall. Yamato could remember running out of the Odaiba house so many times, just to be alone with his chaotic thoughts. He remembered childhood trips to France when they visited the cause of his European blood - his grandparents from his mother’s side. All the times when he would mount a horse just to go on long lonely rides, where he didn’t need to think about the language or other people in general.

He was the meanest when he felt wronged somehow. He would act out whenever he felt suppressed by an idyl or a warm, beautiful day. The worst of his puberty had been horrible to everyone involved. That his little brother would still have love in his light-sensitive eyes to look at him with was the reason Yamato wanted to save him the most. Everyone else hated him.

\- When I was smoking yesterday, Yamato murmured, enjoying the closeness of the other boy’s body, even if it felt like a cheap imitation when he remembered the hugs he used to receive from his brother. - I felt happy.  
\- It’s like a transition of reality, isn’t it?

Asuko’s eyes had an almost unholy glint in them. He was so excited Yamato could feel it tickling his skin. He thought about the words the pink-haired boy had used and nodded to himself.

\- Transition of reality. Can I use that sometime?  
\- If you credit me, haha. Nah, it’s just something I read somewhere. Go wild with it.

 

It so happened Asuko had brought a joint with him. It felt like a miracle when he first brought it up. His smile was a little nervous but mostly confident as he told Yamato:

\- Be thankful. It’s really dangerous to bring it out of the dorm. They don’t really check the plants in every room but an actual joint is harder to explain.

Asuko took it out of his wallet and pulled Yamato by the hand into his own bedroom. He opened the window and they crawled in the bed like two children.

\- I’ll teach you something real sexy this time, okay?  
\- I need to be more sexy? Yamato asked and got punched gently in the shoulder.  
\- Shut up.

The lighted up joint smelled distinctly different from a cigarette. If he needed to compare it to something, then maybe fermented cabbage, or something skunkish. Yamato didn’t think it was such a bad smell but as Asuko said:

\- It lingers. Don’t let your dad in your room today.

Yamato simply replied his father wouldn’t come home for a few days anyway and Asuko leaned over him as if to kiss him. Yamato inclined his head, simply reacting to the motion. Their lips came together and Asuko breathed the smoke into his mouth. Yamato inhaled, surprised but thinking it was sexy, especially when done by someone who looked like this boy. He felt like a child, being gifted with all the benefits of the drug without any of the bad.

It was like magic. The happiness creeped up behind him, inside him before he could even say _I’m stoned_. He felt like he wanted to cry as he saw the look of concern on his friend’s face. No one could deceive him in this timeless state. It was as if he had all the time in the world to see fraud in someone’s face. Genuinity was such a rare sight to him, he had to look for a long, long time.

\- Are you okay, Yammy-chan? You’re not really supposed to get stoned when you’re not in your happy place.  
\- I don’t have a happy place, Yamato told him, watching as he inhaled more of the joint.

He took the initiative, unable to wait and they shared another smoky kiss.

\- Thank you, he said, or thought he said. - I feel better. It’s like the smoke hides me from the walls.

Actually, like this he felt like he could go and meet his brother after all. Why not go today? The content feeling would only last three hours at max. Why not use it to do something good for once?

\- You can’t go anywhere while you’re stoned, Yammy, Asuko rained on his party and leaned his forehead on his shoulder.

The joint passed between them and Yamato wasn’t greedy enough to keep it all to himself, even from that point on. There were more smoky kisses between them and he thought he loved them. The feeling when their lips met was slowly turning him on. He asked with his hands, using light touches to clumsily convey his desire for a closer contact. Asuko entwined their fingers and brought his hand down from his neck.

\- I love you but we didn’t agree on sex before we started smoking.

The words were offending, intentionally so. Yamato found he understood the reasons even if his body was telling him they were unfair. He also knew Asuko didn’t go cheating on his lovers after he called them girlfriends or boyfriends. That wasn’t something that needed to be brought up though.

\- That’s just stupid, he said, pulling away.

His friend answered by dropping himself down on his lap in an awkward sort of curl. They looked into each others’ eyes and Asuko reached up to touch his temple slightly, then pushed his hair behind his ear on both sides.

\- Your eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.  
\- Stop being all romantic when you’re not going to follow through, he growled, still bitter after the rejection and the other boy smiled angelically.

Yamato had never seen anyone smiling quite like this. It started as light in the boy’s eyes and had the small mouth twitching like a toilet room lamp, before it spread all over his face, forming dimples on both round cheeks. It was mesmerising.

\- Be serious, darling. Think for a moment. Would you really want me if you weren’t stoned?

Yamato thought about it and reluctantly deemed the argument valid. He was absolutely frozen, only rarely getting heated enough to want perverted things with anyone. That was what was normal. He was way too into this, way too out of control. He happened to think that Asuko was the only man in the world who would stop for such a reason.

\- See?

It was such an innocent word and Asuko’s tone was so tender, so motherly it stripped Yamato of his protective thorns. His face crunched all up and he started sobbing.

\- Why the fuck am I so screwed up?

Warm hands came to hold his face and with a rustle of sheets there was a body, holding him still, keeping him safe.

\- You’re perfect, Yammy. All you need is to pull yourself together and you can get past this. Get past that morherfucker. No one deserves to fuck you up and you for certain don’t deserve to be defined by Yagami Taiki forever.

The full name invited the character. Speaking of the devil and so on. Yamato could bring forth the image of the older boy for his eyes to see. He wanted to ask that person if it had all been worth it. If forcing him down and putting him in this place had placated the surging anger he had toppled under. Yamato couldn’t forgive him. Why should he forgive him? A few tears shed for ruining his life weren’t enough. It would never be enough!

Pain was one thing. The humiliation of having ambulance men see him and Know, and then the doctors and nurses in Odaiba Hospital who prodded into his memory and into his body to have more evidence… He’d lost all words. For a long time he’d been unable to say anything. He hadn’t even needed to. Everyone did the talking for him. Everyone seemed to know better than him. Police was called and they asked him the questions his dad had already tried getting an answer to. _Did you get a good look at him? How did he get inside the apartment? Do you know the culprit?_ Telling the police about Taiki-san hadn’t been an option. Just in case he came back, apologised and told him he loved him even after everything.

Taiki-san never came back and Yamato faced his mother’s anger from eye to eye. Everything was gone and he was a nervous mess. He had desperately tried finding someone to blame for the mess. And then...

_You can’t blame me for wanting you, Yamato. In any case, I only pushed him a little. How was I supposed to know someone like you was dating an idiot?_

Yeriko. The older boy didn’t regret what he’d done at all. At times when he saw reason, Yamato knew he was right and the weight of the blame lay on Taiki-san in all its severity but his heart screamed Yeriko had had no right to provoke Taiki-san. If _How was I supposed to know_ wasn’t an excuse Yamato could give himself, how could he give it to someone else?

\- I’d forgive him for everything, he cried, hating his hoarse voice, hating the consuming truth in his words. - I’d take him back any day. If only he’d come back.  
\- How can you say that, sweetie?

Asuko’s voice didn’t seem so put together now. It was like Yamato surrendering this one bit of information seriously offended him. But of course it did. Asuko was a victim of much more severe abuse than Yamato. In him he held no compassion for any abuser, rapist or a bad boyfriend, apparently.

\- After what he did to you he can burn in Hell for all I care. I thought he was a good guy. I’ll never forgive him.  
\- He was a good guy.  
\- Good guys don’t rape their boyfriends!  
\- No. No, he really was.

There was no more cannabis to take away the bite of his memories and though the effect was wearing off, Asuko’s words caused an anxiety that hit deeper than ever. Had he really been raped? No, of course he had. He had said no. He had begged for it to stop. He had been way too young to have sex. The pain had been like nothing before. Yet, had he lived like he lived now, had he not got caught by his dad right after, he would’ve attempted to hide it. He would’ve fallen into the right mindset and simplified the whole ordeal as just another fight he’d taken a beating in.

Everyone else had made it a big deal. Shame had turned into an absolute humiliation when one after another they continued to violate his privacy. It was as if the rape never ended.

Asuko held him tighter and Yamato relaxed in his arms. Whatever he had to say never reached anyone. His right was wrong to everyone else. Even if it drove him insane he would just have to shut up. Keep it in. Block his feelings from rushing out like this. He laid his head on the other boy’s shoulder and sighed.

It was ironic how real a pretend friendship could look. That Asuko was willing to be near him, His inner justice that labeled Yamato as someone who needed strong guidance - Yamato was taking advantage of it all. They were both pretending, though. He had nothing to feel guilty about and still, he cried for a very long time.

 

*

 

Asuko exited the apartment with a bag of cookies in his hand. His wristwatch told him it was eight thirty in the evening. It meant the subway would still run for the next hour or two. His tea-coloured eyes strayed to the stairs as he waited for the elevator.

He was fifteen now, not 10 and he could still remember the men who had abused him, dirtied him like it was yesterday. He could change his appearance, he could change his name but he couldn’t change the facts. He was a pitiful victim of a bunch of pedophiles and he was desperately in love with his saviour. It didn’t matter that he knew the guy better now and would never trust him with even a piece of Yamato’s heart. He couldn’t escape a feeling once he delved in it.

He had too much to be grateful for. Whenever his cousin smiled at him. Whenever their little sister called his name. Whenever he was invited home to the Ayakawa family and felt the warm embrace of their altruistic familial love for him. He was still slowly learning that he didn’t need to be anything or do anything to have all that. He had been saved by Matsuko even more times than Yeriko could even dream of saving him. Matsuko was a kid with a blue-eyed perception of the world. Under all his gluttonous shrewdness he was innocent to the point of taking food from strangers. He never learned but it was that innocence that forgave Asuko everything, even when he’d tried ruining him.

Yamato too. A boy who could bake cookies like the ones Asuko had eaten inside that dreadfully lonely apartment, deserved everything the world could offer him in terms of love and affection. It was just wrong that the surrounding world was evil and only sought to hurt him. It was really no wonder Yamato had grown thorns as long and sharp as he had to keep the world at bay.

The boy who ripped their advertisement from the bulletin board at the Odaiba middle school and stared at him with wide eyes, shocked into silence as he laid his accusations on him, had been everything Asuko had hoped he could be. Tall, lean and charming in a quiet way. Not to mention he was absolutely beautiful in a gaijin way. He’d stolen him away to Yeriko’s band immediately. Now he thought if he should’ve let the poor boy go. Now he thought having revenge on Yamato would be the cruelest and the most unnecessary thing he could do.

 

\- Whoa, didn’t know you were visiting!

The coincidence smelled way too much of a con-incident to be unplanned. Who had planned it though? There was no way for Yeriko to have known he was here.

\- Yeri-babe! he claimed with a bright smile he wouldn’t have known how to fake even if he’d wanted to. - I was visiting Yammy-chan, actually.

The older boy was so damn handsome. He had the looks, the money and he knew his way around the wardrobe. It was unfair in all its extravagance, though none of the clothes Yeriko wore were ones Asuko would’ve worn. They were brands, yes, but way formal. Dress shirts, slacks, only a few jeans and some band-shirts.

\- I thought you had a part-time job today. I would’ve called you about the gig otherwise.

His low voice resonated in Asuko’s ears like the words of God. Sometimes if he really concentrated in listening to it there was no way he could remember what had been said, only the tones. Even knowing this guy was a jerk, Asuko couldn’t help but feel lucky to see him so often. He’d stopped believing they were fated to be, though. Yeriko only had eyes for one person.

\- The gig? What about it? he hurried to ask, so as to not be thought of as especially strange.  
\- The revenue changed. They think we can bring in more people so we’re playing at Billboard Live.  
\- Billboard Live!

To this day, it seemed like everyone in DeadDay had more confidence in themselves than Asuko. He knew the reasons behind it and knew a lifetime of love couldn’t fix the damage done to him but still. Even Matsuko who used to throw up before his stupid recitals was way relaxed now. It wasn’t a surprise though, that Yeriko had no nerves. His whole nervous-system had been chased to a Galaxy far, far away. To him, playing at Tokyo Dome would be just the same as playing at some school’s cultural day.

\- Pretty cool, huh?

There he stood with a smug little grin on his face. Oh, he was so pleased with himself, this handsome man.

\- Uh, hell yeah, Asuko said and to his inner delight his words made Yeriko chuckle.

Why was this guy allowed to be so sexy and able of making his whole body tingle down to the tips of his toes? He knew what he wanted from life and it was a real relationship with this person. To Hell with everybody else, was what he wanted to say. Only, Yeriko didn’t do relationships. Yeriko didn’t turn down sex often, as Asuko was lucky to be his type but he was destructive to any guy’s or girl’s emotional health.

The pink-haired boy knew this from experience.

\- The colour looks better than I thought it would, the drummer then said. Asuko’s hand shot up to touch his hair. That’s right. Yeriko hadn’t seen it yet.  
\- I told you so, he pouted and the older boy chuckled again.  
\- I’ll take back what I said. Hot pink is definitely you.

He wanted to say it was all Yamato’s doing. The blonde had thought of the red highlights that toned the brightness down just a tad and added depth to his hair. He really knew his stuff when it came to mixing colors. The thing was, Asuko didn’t want to bring Yamato up now that he was alone with Yeriko for the first time in months.

Sei was the one who told him to take care of himself, that he needed to put himself first. It felt impossible that someone who had been with Yeriko forever longer than Asuko could know how he felt, and somehow he still did. After all, right now Asuko was happy with his girlfriend.

\- I’ll let Macchan know, he said then, not to get trapped by the silence. - About the gig.

They only had two more floors to go.

\- Thanks. Oh.  
\- What?  
\- He didn’t really dye his hair green, did he?

Asuko laughed heartily. He would’ve never let his cousin do anything that looked bad. He loved the boy too much to let him ruin his high school career by being too freaky. Because Matsuko had been worried. Even if he put on a front, Asuko could tell.

\- Trust Yammy’s skills a little, babe, he said without thinking and immediately wanted to cut out his tongue.

There it was, that look in Yeriko’s eyes. The one that said he was thinking about something painful. Asuko couldn’t help but think the guy deserved it, having disregarded his feelings years ago. His heart still ached for his saviour.

They arrived at the ground floor and Asuko found himself hating everything in this extravagant place. It was a space only for people like Yamato or Yeriko who were rich and had doting parents. Having thought so he immediately felt bad and sent a mental apology to his rival. Hopefully Yamato was able to sleep. It would suck if their conversation would plague him too much.

\- Hey, Yeriko said, stopping him in his tracks. - Stay on. I’ll take you home.

It wasn’t everyday that someone other than Yamato was invited to ride on Yeriko’s bike. Asuko didn’t have to think as he jumped back in the elevator just as the doors were closing. Hell yes he was staying on.

\- Would you tell me, the drummer asked quietly as they exited the elevator in the parking hall. - If he weren’t okay?

Way to make a boy immediately regret his decisions. Asuko clicked his tongue annoyedly. It was as if he’d been casted as the middleman between the two and he hadn’t even applied to the part. Or, maybe he had. Hadn’t he thought that taking care of Yamato would bring him closer to Yeriko?

Shit, he was so fake.

\- Yeah well, he’s as good as he can be. I have the cure for his symptoms.  
\- Symptoms?

This was dangerous. Knowing Yeriko the guy would most likely kill him if he let him know he’d dealt drugs to his precious blonde songbird. Asuko needed to think and fast.

\- T.L.C, he just said, underlining every letter with annoyance. - His dad’s gone again. Can’t blame the guy for a bitching cabin fever.  
\- I hope it’s just cabin fever, Yeriko sighed and looked so much like a Good Boyfriend that Asuko almost declined the ride back to the dorms after all.

Yamato said all men were selfish and he was right. Here was a stupid guy, letting himself be played by a handsome asshole for kicks and here was another idiot who thought of himself as important enough to matter to a high class angel who hated his guts. How wonderful. How human. Even more human was the way Yeriko’s back felt against his chest as the beast under them roared into the night, and the kiss he cheated from the guy as he returned the helmet and was swiped off his feet by the sexy biker in front of his eyes.

\- I can give you a warmer ride home in a few months, the guy spoke sweetly against his lips.  
\- How come, other than the obvious? he asked, feeling doped up by the kiss.  
\- I’ll turn seventeen and dad got me a special permit for driver’s licence. City only though.  
\- Whoa, that’s so cool.  
\- Right? It’ll be a lot safer too. I know you got a bit scared there.

He shook his head firmly.

\- I’m not scared as long as you’re there.

The older boy laughed heartily.

\- Yeah, you really wouldn’t mind a double suicide with me, would you?  
\- Don’t be a jerk.

They said their goodbyes and he walked up to the house as Yeriko’s bike roared away behind him. The worst was that he really wouldn’t have minded dying with Yeriko. The guy had the effect on him. It was better to keep his distance for now, again. His feelings for the guy weren’t healthy in the least.

 

The dorm house was actually a five-storey-apartment building in Shibuya, owned fully by a family of three college students and one university professor, who had come to sudden money some years before and thought _Why not make some more?_ So for the last three years Asuko had lived in the same dorm room for a decent price.

As had the older girl he now called his girlfriend.

 

\- Oh look what the cat brought in.

Asuko smiled immediately at the laid-back alto voice mocking him. He let the door to the staircase close after him as he smiled to the girl who had come to greet him all the way from the third floor. The hallway walls were decorated in artful graffiti, not the kind that covered walls outside - the insulting ones, and the public space they all shared had been made as cosy as possible. His cousin didn’t really like it in this bohemian atmosphere but Asuko had felt like he fit right in from the minute he had seen it.

He could never say it out in front of his darling Matsuko but this here was a little more home than the little youth center his parents ran in their apartment. Perhaps his aunt had realised his discomfort and that’s why she allowed him to move out. His adoptive parents were really one of a kind.

He looked at Yoshino and felt inner relief over not finding scorn in her body language or the way she was looking at him. When he had moved here in the beginning of his second year in junior high, this girl had been the dorm head, responsible for everyone else. She had also been the girlfriend of one of the owners but that wasn’t important. It didn’t define her.

\- Did you enjoy the show? he asked and yes, the girl laughed.  
\- Try and look at least a little worried, you cheater! she scolded him with an honest smile on her boyish face.

Hattori Yoshino was a great girl, perhaps a little strange at times. She had once confessed to him that she used to be extremely nervous around people as a child and thus could now read moods like a professional. She was a little taller than him but they both agreed he would most likely outgrow her once his growth spurt hit, had a cute boyish haircut to compliment her facial structure and a God-given ability to sew clothes. She was in her first year of art college but already had people showing interest in her designs. Including the indie-label DeadDay was under right now.

She had named her label _Night Runner_ and whenever she was required to leave her den of creation, she playfully called herself Naito Ran.

 _If I make a serious breakthrough, I’m going to change my name,_ she liked to say and Asuko adored her humble yet ambitious attitude towards clothing in general. Neither of them treated their relationship as something that would last forever but it was also because of that, that they could really enjoy each other’s company. They inspired each other.

In John Keats's words:

_”I almost wish we were butterflies_

_and liv'd but three summer days_

_\- three such days with you I could fill with more delight_

_than fifty common years could ever contain.”_

 

Come to think of it, Asuko always found himself reciting Western poets when around this girl.

\- Did you see him?  
\- Not really but he’s been around before, that Nakano-san.  
\- Ah, right.

Whether he was lucky or perhaps something was structurally broken in Yoshino’s head. Asuko had never met another girl who was as okay with him flirting and getting physically close to others as she was. Yesterday she had lain beside him on his bed and said: _I’ve never felt this inspired before. That Ishida-kun is a perfect canvas for a designer._ She said this after she’d witnessed the level of comfortable intimacy between them.

It did make him wonder if her clothes were more important to her than he was, even though she had told him she probably liked him more than he liked her. He didn’t really think so. It was simply a matter of prioritising. He had the band, she had her clothes. The bottom point was that she trusted him not to actually start cheating and that meant a lot to him. Even if it meant saying no to very delicious, tempting situations.

\- Let’s go out tomorrow, he said spontaneously.  
\- Then let’s go to that smoothie-place that just opened up, Yoshino suggested.

Asuko had to pause at that.

\- Smoothie? Is that like a spa or something?

The girl laughed in a way that reminded him of a bubbling spring. There were some quotes for that as well. He just couldn’t pick which one to choose.

\- No, she finally collected herself enough to say. - What I’ve gathered it’s like a healthy milk shake. I heard it’s turning into a trend all over the world.  
\- A healthy milkshake, Asuko repeated, feeling his senses tingle.  
\- They serve them in restaurants, Yoshino tempted him. - This is the first actual smoothie bar around here. Isn’t it a little exciting?  
\- I actually wanna try one, he said, fighting against a grin. - Just so I can say it’s bad.  
\- Stop it! the girl laughed at him. - How bad could it be? Inari says it’s basically fresh fruit, yoghurt and juice.

Asuko nodded. It sounded really good. Then Yoshino said the magic words:

\- It’s a frozen drink. You love those.

He threw his hands up, surrendering. Summer and frozen drinks. If it was good, he’d work on getting Matsuko addicted to them. His cousin was the one who decided where the band ate whenever they were together.

\- Yeah. Let’s go try smoothies tomorrow.  
\- You, Yoshino scolded him. - You think you’re so shrewd. I can see right through you.  
\- It’s just my transparent suit. I’ll wear something different next time.

They paused, blinked and then Asuko continued slowly and carefully:

\- So, I came to a realisation that I spend too much time with my baby cousin.  
\- No, Yoshino answered, carefully replicating his tone. - That was actually a pretty good one. I want to make you one. A transparent suit.  
\- No, Yocchan. Just, no.

Other residents came in right then and they took the chance to get in the elevator with them. At the third floor they shared a smile and a kiss and then Yoshino said goodnight.

\- My deadline is in the morning and I still have a lot to do, she said.

He couldn’t argue with that. Besides, he had stuff to work out on his own. Such as how many of his ethics he had broken today by leaving Yamato the other joint he’d had with him. If he wanted to help ease the anxiety the blonde felt, his morals were pretty safe but leaving a person like Yamato alone with narcotics… It wasn’t enough to kill him but he couldn’t help but feel worried.

\- Want help? he asked but the girl shook her head.  
\- No. It’s not that you don’t know how to sew but this is my battle.  
\- Okay.

Telling someone like Yoshino not to over-do it would’ve been useless so he didn’t. She had periods when she locked herself up in her room and didn’t come out for days. A person had to stand right outside her door to know which hobby she was indulging, the clothes or the narcotics.

His room was as big as eight tatamis and on his walls he had photographs of his friends and family. Ex-boyfriends and girlfriends. Some he had taken himself, some others had taken. He treated it as a life-line, a memory wall.

They said at the moment of great euphoria, lesser emotions like lust and longing were wiped away. As he looked at a newspaper-clipping of their debut as the first-ever under-sixteen rock band, he couldn’t remember separate feelings from that day, only the happiness. The collective happiness that enabled them to read each others’ minds for hours.

He changed into pajamas and watered his tiny cannabis seedlings with love. He was a scientist type of a person. He couldn’t say something was bad unless he had a chance to try it and when he did get a chance, he documented every moment for future reference. Even today he took out his little notebook and wrote down the differences in growth and how he tended to them.

Then he left a few pages empty and wrote down what Yamato had said about his experiences with smoking marijuana. He also documented the incident at the Ishida residence and compared it to the blonde’s normal sexual behaviour. The whole process made him think about their age and the abnormal circumstances they had gone through as individuals to get here.

He had never had the chance to fall in love normally before experiencing his first sexual intercourse. Yamato had been in love with the person who had violated his body. However, they were still just fifteen years old, both of them. Wasn’t it so, that the younger a person fell in love, the more time they had to get emotionally twisted to the point when they finally felt the absolute destruction of their heart?

He wandered to his small bookshelf and picked up a book by an old Spanish poet. He didn’t have to leaf through the book long to find the lines he was thinking right then.

_“But hurry,_  
_let's entwine ourselves as one,_  
_our mouth broken,_  
_our soul bitten by love,_  
_so time discovers us safely destroyed.”_

Federico García Lorca

 

*

 

Yeriko cruised around the whole night and he had no idea what time it was when he got back to Roppongi Hills. He needed the air sometimes, especially when he was dealing with responsible matters. Today was his first free day in all vacation and he knew how he wanted to spend it. By all means he was supposed to be feeling the fatigue from not sleeping during the night but he felt fine - good in fact. He was home after witnessing a wonderful dawn somewhere in Tokyo and though his sense of time was muddled by not knowing what time the sun rose now, he felt energised. So much in fact that he wanted to finally write down the melody he had building in his brain.

Lyrics he would leave to the literature savvy members of the band. His idea of a poem was _Look, how the sun rises above the Horizon, greeting us through the toxic fumes of Tokyo._ Yes, he wasn’t impressing anyone.

The sun turned out to reach its highest spot in the sky by the time Yeriko was done with the raw version of the song. Love and a need for a second opinion had him running down the stairs in his fluffy, warm slippers and ringing Yamato’s doorbell. If the younger boy suffered from cabin fever he had a better cure for it than Asuko could ever procure.

He had to ring the bell many times more before the door was opened for him. He caught a whiff of something he couldn’t quite place in the air. The way Yamato’s eyes ran down his body was just weird. Not unwelcome though.

\- Figures it would be you, the blonde said and seemed to linger on the thought a bit too long.

Actually, wasn’t this something Yeriko had seen recently, when he had visited his dad’s studios? Realisation was like a bucket full of icy water being dumped on him. He pushed past the younger boy and waited for him to close the door before rounding up to him in cold fury.

\- The fuck’s going on, Yamato?!


End file.
